Secret
by Gilbert's Left Arm
Summary: Transferred and rewritten from my old account. Picture this: what if Sam and Tucker had not been with Danny when he got his ghost powers? Would he tell his best friends, or would he take the path of discovering his abilities by himself? Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

_And here it is! I hope you like the rewritten version, everyone. It's over three times as long and I'm so much more pleased with it. The next update will be over a week's time, and that goes for my other fics – I'm on a German exchange, sorry._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

School is a bad time of the day for me. Seven hours of stress, worry and physical pain without a break. But I should be able to handle it – I'm 14. A teenager for over a year. The age where I have to start to stand up for myself. I'm not a little kid anymore.

The problem is, though, neither is anyone around me.

It's only been a few weeks into the year and I've already been shoved into my locker _30_ times by various jocks (mainly a jerky guy called Dash). You see, I'm not exactly well-built in terms of muscle. I'm small, I'm skinny and I'm _brittle, _thank you very much. And there's this one really hot girl, Paulina's her name, who I spent ages building up the confidence to ask out. She rejected me in front of everyone during english when the teacher wasn't in the room.

I don't even know what started it. I know I'm not the best looking person out there; my hair is a little scruffy and I don't have a particular interest in the latest fashion trends. Gaming is one of my hobbies, but I wouldn't so far as to say that I was a nerd… but others seemed to think so. It's like it's decided on the first day who you are going to be for the rest of your high school career.

But when you lived in a family like mine, school wasn't the worst part of the day.

The bell for the end of last period rang through the school and chairs clattered around me as I stood up, shoving my textbooks into my bag. I sighed happily, closing my eyes. Friday. A whole weekend was ahead of me which included a movie marathon with Sam Manson and Tucker Foley. Mr Lancer wasn't in, so I didn't have an unholy amount of homework to get through. I'd got away with just a few pages of algebra which I could quickly finish when I got home.

"Your usual teacher will be back on Monday," the substitute said, erasing everything off of the board. A few murmurs were heard in reply, but most students just wanted to _leave_. Like me.

"Hey Danny," someone patted my shoulder after I stepped out into in hall. I recognised her voice before I even looked to check. It was Sam, with Tucker behind her.

"Oh, hey, Sam. Tucker." Her hair was the same ebony-colour as mine and like usual she'd tied a small portion of it up. She was wearing a black tank top and skirt, with some dark combat boots and purple lipstick. Her regular goth look.

Tucker was, unsurprisingly, completely absorbed in his PDA. The African-American had his recurring red beret on his head and yellow sweater that was slightly too small for him.

Everything was normal. Nothing had changed.

"Up for a Nasty Burger?" Sam asked as we automatically walked to our lockers, "my treat, by the way."

"Not today, sorry. My parents want me home all evening."

"Still cleaning up all the stuff from your party?"

I immediately stiffened, halfway into putting in my combination. To put it simply, my 14th birthday party had been a disaster. It was of course, my dad's fault. My mum said that that was the last time she'd let him help make the cake.

"No, I finished that yesterday," I told her.

"Well, whatever it is, Danny, good luck with it!" Tucker cheerfully joined in the conversation, "me and Sam are off to get some good old meat."

"No," she replied, "just you for the meat. I don't eat it."

"Whatever. See you tomorrow for the movies, Danny!"

"Yeah," Sam waved as they departed off down the hall, "see you tomorrow."

"Bye…" I watched my only two friends turn a corner and disappear out of sight.

I shut my locker and rested against it for a second, regarding everyone that passed me. A couple gave me weird looks back, but that wasn't the point. Everyone was talking, laughing, sharing jokes with each other. Heck, even the bullies were having fun beating up geeks _together_. It was just so average and normal and there was just me, here on my own. I wasn't part of the normal. The nerds had their friends, the jocks theirs. Sam and Tucker had left me to go Nasty Burger and I was alone again. That's not to say I was angry at them – just part of me wished that they'd stayed a little… longer… walked with me to the front entrance or maybe a little way down the street; my house was in the same general direction that they were going. At least they'd been nice enough to talk to me before instead of just leaving without a word.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood up straight, ready to walk home.

"Hey, Fen-toenail," Dash's annoying, screeching voice sounded behind me and I stopped walking before I started, ready for the inevitable.

"What is it this time, Dash?" I deadpanned, "look, I gotta get home so _please _could y-"

Something – probably a fist – knocked all the wind out of me and before I knew I was in the air. He pinned me against the lockers, my face hitting the metal hard. I groaned. That would bruise later.

One of his friends forced my locker open with something I couldn't see from that angle and I was lifted up again. The sound of my books crashing to the floor made me wince and I knew there'd be no one to help pick those up. My body was squashed inside and the door slammed shut after me, stuck tight.

"Great," I mumbled.

The sound of laughter faded eventually and I had horrible images of the condition of my schoolwork, which now probably lay torn to shreds on the hall floor. Naturally, my situation was ignored and I could see the shadows of the last few students leaving the school flicker past the slits in the metal.

I couldn't really say I 'sat' there – I don't thinking the act of 'sitting' includes one of your arms being twisted painfully above your head and one of your legs squashed behind you. I just had to wait where I was for a teacher or the janitor to find me. My phone rang once, probably one of my parents calling, wondering where I was. I couldn't reach it to answer.

Some footsteps echoed into earshot, then there was a pause and I heard a sigh.

"_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland!_ Daniel Fenton, is that you in there?"

"Mr Lancer?" _finally,_ "I thought you were off?"

"I had to collect some papers that needed to be marked over the weekend… your work is all out here on the floor Mr Fenton… I'll fetch the janitor."

"Thanks," I replied as I heard him walk away.

Mr Lancer didn't come back – but the janitor broke me out with a crowbar. He was angrier that he'd need to replace my locker than anything else, and he moaned at me for not standing up for myself again because he 'wasn't paid to do this sort of thing'. So I just thanked him and salvaged as much of my stuff as I could before striding off, clinging to the last bit of dignity that I had left.

I saw no one on my way home apart from the football team practicing on the grounds next to the school. They laughed at me and my bundle of papers and books, of course. Yep, ok, I take that back. I had no dignity left now.

Wind whistled past me, carrying a few orange leaves in its wake and reminding me what time of year it was. I shivered without a jacket.

I glanced at a newsstand casually. The current top story was an attack on a little girl that happened sometime during the night before. It made my face fall even further. What kind of person would hurt a small, innocent child? Amity Park's police force was terrible on top of that. Crimes were normal. Thankfully not often, but normal. Why couldn't anyone stop that? Why couldn't anyone do _something_ that would change _something_. Make life, like… more exciting. I mean, I didn't exactly hate my life. Sure, I was picked on and stuff and I had a feeling I was nobody's best friend, but I wasn't _unhappy_, per se. If I studied hard, I'd get a great job and hopefully have a good life.

Neon lights appeared in front of my eyes when I turned into the next street. A flashing ghost was sticking out of the wall. An Ops Centre rested on top of a building, make it taller than all the others.

I was home.

"Danny, my boy! You finally made it back!" my dad scooped me up when I walked in through the door, "come and see what your mother and I have finished – we're just about to turn it on!"

I dropped my bag and the papers on the side of the stairs before he could drag me any further. I was pushed down towards the basement door and it was opened by a pair of huge black-gloved hands.

It was darker in this room. I squinted a blinked, trying to get used the dim green lights that illuminated the wall's metallic panels and reflected off of the lab's equipment. My footsteps echoed as I stepped inside in front of Dad. He grabbed my shoulders and twisted my round a bit.

"Son, I wanna show you something," he pointed a beefy finger to a deep hole in lab wall. It was on the far side of the room so I had to step forward to see it properly. Wires trailed out of it like snakes and there were building tools in a pile by the side. Dials decorated the surrounding area; they went back and forth every now and then and I wondered curiously what they were measuring, and what was powering them. Mum was inside the hole, her goggles on over her eyes. She was fixing what looked like a circuit board to the side. Neon lights lit up her face at strange angles, making her seem like a mad scientist. Well, more mad than she already was.

"Uh, what does this…_thing_… actually do?" I asked my father when he excitedly rushed me forward. He picked up something to point with and tapped it on a chart labelled 'Fenton Portal'. The paper was a dark blue and the hole in the wall was drawn on carefully with a white pencil. That was probably Mum's doing. Dad's contribution was most likely the doodle of the ghost in the corner.

"When we get it working and all fired up, it'll punch open an entrance into the Ghost Zone!" My dad explained with a huge grin slapped on his face.

"The 'Ghost Zone…?" I replied, "What's tha… oh." Realisation hit me like a brick, "is this just another one of your stupid inventions that never work?"

Mum suddenly poked her head out, her expression with a smile almost as big as Dad's. "This one _will_ work, sweetie," she signalled to a pile of paper full of blueprints and numbers with her welder. "These are all the calculations we made to be sure. I've checked over them seven times. We'll see _real_ ghosts for the first time. We'll be able to explore their world! Oh, I wonder what it's like… I have my ideas but you can never be sure."

My unconvinced expression hadn't disappeared. I didn't want my parents to be disappointed again after their countless number of other failures and maybe acting like this would put them off a little and get them to go through things again. "Are you sure?"

They both nodded.

"Well…I have a bit of homework to do. I'll leave you to it. Good luck," I turned round to walk up the stairs, but Dad put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's practically done, son," he said urgently, "couldn't you stay for a little longer – to see it turn on? Aren't you curious as to what's out there?"

Many replies drifted through my mind, but they all led to me wondering things about this 'Ghost Zone'. If ghosts were real – and that was a big _if_ (my parents are nutjobs, after all) – what would ghosts look like? Floating bed sheets? Or more human? The thought came to me that I might be able to find out, and soon too. No matter how crazy it sounded, an invention like this would break a barrier from the normal to the… paranormal. The supernatural would become natural, and in those few seconds before answering my father, I came to terms with the fact that I was passing up the chance to experience a scientific _breakthrough._

"You know…" I answered quietly and slowly as my thoughts slid back into reality, "you're right." I looked up in wonder at the 'portal' before me, taking in the flashing lights and the faint humming of the things that had to be separately powered up, "just imagine what awesome super-cool things could exist on the other side of that portal…"

"Well, we're about to find out!" Mum reminded me, handing Dad a pair of wires.

He showed them to me after "these are what's gonna turn it on!" he fidgeted eagerly, waiting for his wife to finish the final few adjustments.

After a few more minutes of bangs and clicks, Mum stepped out and came to stand beside us.

"Are you ready, sweetie?" I wasn't sure whether she was talking to me or Dad, so I nodded anyway.

"Hey, Mum," suddenly I thought of something, "wouldn't Jazz want to see this? She's into science and studying and essays and all that."

There was silence for a moment before she agreed with me. "You're right, Danny, I'll just go and get he-"

"Banzai!" My dad's yell echoed through the portal in front of us. He raised his arms quickly (and rather dramatically), connecting the wires in one swift movement. It appeared he had either ignored that last bit of conversation, or was just too impatient to wait.

My thoughts about Jazz disappeared as electricity sparked and fizzled from the connection point, crackling steadily down the wire. I stared at it intently, willing it on. Soon, it reached the portal itself and my heart raced faster, imagining what it would like when it was activated.

Nothing.

I blinked a few times, then glanced at my parents, "does it take some time to…?"

Dad was biting his lip and disappointment was spreading quickly across his face. He let the wires slide out of his hands and onto the floor before turning to Mum, who looked just as dejected.

There was a painful silence, and I kept trying to think of something else to say, something to make them feel…

"Come on," my mum's voice echoed plainly around the room, "dinner's almost ready – let's go and eat something. We'll have a nice dessert afterwards." I watched, not sure whether to answer or not, as she left without a response from either of us. I glance back at my Dad, whose face was still fixed on the portal.

I waited for him to move – I didn't want to leave it there. As he walked – or trudged –his eyes never rose higher than the floor.

"I guess ol' Vladdie was right," I muttered to no one as he started up the stairs, "I am an idiot."

The extra components of the portal we still faintly buzzing and my gaze flickered back to it. It looked so out of place there. Even if my parents' inventions never worked, they weren't as obvious and as scarring as a now meaningless hole in the wall. Will they ever feel up to dismantling it?

My grumbling stomach made me jump. I didn't even realise I was hungry.

* * *

"I'm finished. Thanks for the meal, Mum," I set my empty plate by the sink, where she was washing up. She replied with a soft thank you and continued scrubbing, some bubbles escaping and drifting into the air before quietly bursting.

"What went wrong mum? You… said you had all the right calculations."

She froze, the dishes clinking together.

Why did ask that?

She shook her head dismissively, and I was surprised when she actually replied. "I really don't know, sweetie; I thought we had everything correct. I made extra care to check everything properly, after Vlad was hurt so badly last time."

That was the name Dad had mentioned before.

"Who is Vlad?"

"He went to college with me and your father about 20 years ago. He helped us build our first attempt at a ghost portal. That failed, of course, and he was in a terrible state when it exploded."

So _that_ was why Mum and Dad were even more upset than usual. They'd tried fruitlessly before and it even failed the second time around. It even went so far as to injure someone, which explained why they were so determined to get it right this time. And they were so confident about their hard work…

"What happened to him? Was he OK afterwards?"

"He received a powerful blast of energy to the face. He was hospitalized for a long time with an awful case of ecto-acne."

"What did he say when he got out?"

"We never saw him after that."

"That's… sad," was all I could think of to say.

"Mmmm," Mum seemed distracted again, so I turned around to check on Dad.

He was still at the table and his food lay untouched, probably freezing cold. Even his fudge-filled dessert sat, uneaten, beside him. He was staring blankly into middle-distance, either deep in thought or thinking of nothing at all. His eyes were glazed and held no emotion.

Surely, there was only something small my parents had missed. I couldn't understand half of the notes on the blueprints – the text was too advanced for me –but it looked like it would have definitely worked. They must have overlooked a button or a wire might have been loose… that had to be it.

A determined look was set on my face when I hurried back down into the lab, with little or no reaction from Mum and Dad.

I needed to put something safe on before I went in (no one knows what chemicals could be drifting around inside that portal), which led me to search the lab's cupboards for a spare jumpsuit. Most I found were the wrong size, consisting mainly of blue or orange. Eventually, I came across a white one with black boots and accents. I must have had belonged to Dad when he was thinner – heck, it even rested snugly on me. So snug I had to take off all of my clothes (apart from my underwear) to get it to stay on without it looking weird and bulky.

Catching sight of myself in a mirror, I noticed a sticker of my dad's face plastered onto the chest of the jumpsuit. I half-smiled, prising it off. How much had he weighed when he last wore this?

Mum's blueprints were scattered, abandoned, on the metal floor.

I slowly stepped inside the portal, my eyes widening when I saw it from the inside – a different point of view than before. It may have been empty and broken, but it still seemed to have a faint buzz of potential.

I found myself stumbling – a spare circuit board, a loose wire or something. My balance tipped forward and I reached out to grab something for support.

Something flashed. Something whirred and neon lights flashed around me.

Pain. Pain like fire.

Electricity ripped its way through my skin and found my bones, burning me from the inside out as my mouth opened in a silent scream. My vision failed, followed by the rest of my senses, but I still felt pain. Everything slowed down and I was there, frozen in place, for probably an unimaginable period of time. I was dying. I knew I was. No one would survive this.

I think it stopped eventually. I don't remember. I don't even recall stumbling out of the portal – I was blind, unfeeling. My face hit the cold, hard floor, bringing back flashes of my time crushed against my locker earlier. Was I back there? Had this all been just a dream?

I fell unconscious to a bright white-blue light.

* * *

They must have seen me stir, because their calling of my name faded into earshot.

I felt my eyes open slowly, my blurred vision taking a long time to clear. The faces belonging to my family surrounded me and slowly the pins and needles in my limbs stopped and the soft cotton bed sheets around me became obvious, as well as the faint scent of strange crisps.

My room. That's where I was.

"Danny! Danny!" Jazz was speaking, her voice coarse from saying my name so many times.

"What happened?" I forced myself to sit up, only to lie back down again as more pain throbbed through my head.

"I think… the portal shocked you when it turned on," my older sister told me as I closed my eyes, trying to shut out my headache.

The portal was on? The new information failed to process in my brain properly.

"We came down after we heard you cry out… and… and you were just lying on the floor, out cold." Jazz's face was stained with dry tears. "We thought you were dead, Danny."

"I'm sure if I'm alive, I'm fine," I convinced them. My mum or dad hadn't said anything. It was obvious my parents were blaming themselves entirely for my accident. I hoped that I hadn't made things worse, although I probably had.

"If you're sure…" she replied.

"Just leave me to rest, please."

"I-We'll be back up soon. You were unconscious for a long time, Danny. You need to eat as soon as you can. There are no signs of external injury, although you were freezing when we last checked, so you should hopefully recover soon."

I 'mmm'ed softly in response as she left the room. Mum and Dad hesitated for a second, their faces saying everything without words. They _were_ worried, they didn't even need to say it.

A nod and a small smile was what I gave them before they left too.

I rolled over onto my side and closed my eyes. My sudden migraine had gone, but I still felt faints spread all over my body, which wasn't exactly a surprise. What was the voltage of that portal? However high, it all went through me so I'd be more concerned if I wasn't feeling anything. I also vaguely wondered who had changed my clothes, but immediately pushed that to the back of my mind as something of low-priority.

I let my feet swing off the bed and touch gently the ground. I had a sudden desire to move about, but there was no way I would be allowed to leave my room, so I resorted to plodding slowly around aimlessly and then ended up almost tripping over a toy car.

Trying to remember where it came from, I picked it up. It proceeded to fall out of my hand and for a second I cared, sure I had a fairly firm grip on it. But my headache was coming back, and that was more important. I slogged back to my bed and got under the covers, letting go of the past few hours.

* * *

_So… how was it? Much of an improvement? Please let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Guys, I'm shocked at this response. I really am. I get back from a week with a wonderful German family to find all these emails from alerts/favs/reviews and it just made me so motivated I ignored the fact I had only had two hours sleep last night and I went straight on to writing this. I finished it, and I'm posting it straight away, as well as replying to all your reviews, as there are some key points I'd like to mention there._

_**Weirdo: **__It begins this chapter, my friend. This chapter._

_**Geardark: **__It's just how I write my Danny – I don't believe his heroic side comes from just being a ghost. It just amplifies it. And as for his first battle, I'm pretty sure it wasn't a whole month after the accident :)_

_**nanayoung: **__You want me to make this even _longer_? I'm sorry, it's not possible for me to do that. I've already stretched to three times its original size. I'm pretty sure this chapter length is plausible for everyone else, thanks :)_

_**SailorSea: **__I'm glad you think so! Enjoy this update!_

_**DB-KT: **__Here's the next one! I hope you didn't wait a long time :)_

_**The Virus: **__ohdearhowdoIreadthisokwellum Thanks! :D_

_**echgrl: **__Ahahaha, I knew my Britishness would eventually be challenged – it was only a matter of time. I've really tried my best with this one, using all the American terminology I know in place of my native dialect. But that spelling of 'mum' is how it's going to stay, I'm afraid. I always forget when writing, and going back through every sentence to change it is time consuming when I could just be getting another chapter out! Thanks for your review! I'm pleased you enjoyed it :D_

_**The Magnetic Witch: **__NEITHER DO I! 3_

_**DarkFoxKit: **__I hope so, too. I'm planning this fic to be quite the long one because I have a lot to cover. Hopefully, I can please everybody :)_

_**Dina-Meredith: **__(I'M GLAD OMG)_

_**sora kazega: **__Here's the new rendition! :D_

_**ALIKAT131: **__AM I? YAY!_

_**Phantom Ice: **__Thanks! :)_

_**Crystalzap: **__Really? Me, too!_

_**KG5133: **__Here's the next one, then – thank you :)_

_**snakeofdreams: **__You faved? Thank you 3 Here's the next update for you!_

_**Pheek:**__ Holy crud, Pheek, thanks for the review! I'll try my best :D_

* * *

I think it was the next day that I finally drifted back into consciousness.

My eyes closed almost as soon as they opened from the stream of sunlight shining on my face. I groaned and shielded myself with one hand, grunting while I slowly pulled myself up into a slouched sitting position. The blankets gathered in my lap and my hair stuck out randomly at all angles.

Judging by the light, I was awake fairly early in the morning. Birds could be heard singing just over the noise from cars outside and my room was filled with a soft golden-brown glow (save for the shadows the trees cast through the cheap nylon curtains that adorned the windows).

I yawned once or twice during the slow process of getting out of bed. My headache was still faintly there and the pains in my muscles hadn't gone, but overall I just felt really _slow_. Despite the fairly warm morning for this time of year, I was colder than I expected when I planted my feet on the wooden floorboards of my bedroom. A vaguely annoyed expression was growing on my face. I wasn't better yet, and even though I knew that recovery by now would have been impossible, it still annoyed me when shivers trembled down my body.

I half-heartedly reached for the doorknob and it took me too long to just get hold of it. When I did, the door opened quickly and slowly the inevitable smell of burning food drifted closer. My feet didn't really feel like being feet, and I stumbled down the stairs and fell over a few times before arriving at the kitchen.

Dad was the first person I noticed (because he wore neon orange jumpsuits and all); he was hovering over the family toaster, trying to pick the over-cooked bread out with a butter knife. Which was frankly an unwise idea, as, not only was he using something that conducted electricity, the appliance was still switched on. The occasional shock hit his body, absorbed by the great size of his figure. Jazz was the only one at the table, biting down on a spoon as she flicked through a book. Reading instead of eating as usual.

Mum was nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry about the… toast, son," Dad's voice suddenly broke the not-quite silence (he must have heard me come in). He turned around, clutching a plate that held a pile of black and crumbling bread. "I tried to make it for you, but it… didn't really turn out the way I wanted it to. Looks like I messed up on this too, huh? Ah, well…" he eyes drifted to the counter, "you can have my fudge instead." He signalled to a bowl wrapped in foil and I grabbed it, pulling off the wrapping to reveal small cubes of the stuff. I then proceeded to thank him and sit down next to my sister, who still hadn't moved the cutlery out of her mouth.

At least Dad was talking again.

"Fudge for breakfast?" I whispered questioningly to Jazz as I sat down.

She closed her book and brushed some flaming red hair out of her face and adjusted her headband. "I believe that he is trying his best to apologise," she replied, her voice just as low, "Mum and Dad are both so upset about your accident. They built the portal that caused it after all."

"But I was the one that went in there!" I immediately regretted objecting. The sudden jolt shot pain through my arms and I winced, just proving further how much damage my parents' invention had caused me.

"You wouldn't have gone in it if it didn't exist," she pointed out.

I bit back a reply and instead shrugged (causing yet more discomfort in my shoulders). "Hey, Jazz… where's Mum?" I asked. She was usually the one cooking breakfast and yet, Dad seemed to be attempting to cover that.

"I'm right here, sweetie." Her voice was clearer and full of less guilt than I expected, perhaps because of the person that had followed her into the room.

Mr Lancer stood behind her to the right, a noticeably large box in his arms. He smiled encouragingly and stepped forward, placing it next to me on the table with a heavy 'thud'.

I stared at it, a frown settling on my face as I began to work out what it was.

"Daniel," he said, "your mother called me yesterday whilst I was grading papers. She explained the whole story of your… 'accident'."

I nodded slowly and my neck protested. It also occurred to me that I probably looked _awful_ right now, but Mr Lancer seemed to either understand or was able to ignore my appearance.

"We agreed that you weren't going to be in school for a while, so I decided to come along and bring you your homework for the next week or so. As well as to offer you a 'get well soon', of course."

"Uh…thanks, Mr Lancer," I responded politely, feeling dread begin to set in as I eyed the mountain of paper before me.

He continued to smile as he turned round, "I'll sure myself to the door, Mrs Fenton. Please eat some… breakfast… with your family." He had obviously caught sight of the burned toast and pile of fudge sitting in front of me on my plate.

"Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee Mr Lancer?" Mum offered.

Mr Lancer shook his head hastily and tapped the watch on his left wrist. "I need to be at the school soon. There's a student council meeting in just over ten minutes and I need to be there to supervise it."

"Oh - that reminds me; I'm supposed to be there, too!" Jazz spoke up before bolting out of her chair and hoisting up her backpack from the floor that was sitting by her ankles. She practically flew out the front door before Mr Lancer could mutter a title of a novel and follow her.

"Um… bye," I said, though neither was there to listen.

Mum, Dad and I stayed where we were in silence for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. There was the noise of slamming doors and two engines starting, revving, and then eventually fading into the distance, on their way to Casper High.

I sighed softly and relaxed my position a bit, not realising how straight I had been sitting when Mr Lancer was in the room. My back was screaming at me; I felt like an old man.

After a while, Dad muttered something inaudible and headed for the lab, closely followed by Mum who first shot a worried glance at me. I smiled encouragingly and her lips seemed to begin to mirror mine before she disappeared.

If you ask me, a plate full of fudge is definitely _not_ the recommended healthy breakfast you need to break your six to eight hour-long hunger in the mornings. I'm not the kind of guy who would scoff down anything given to me, regardless of the content. What Dad didn't take into account was the fact that I needed something other than sugar to pull out onto the road to recovery.

Even with the family in this state, some things would never change.

I poured myself some cereal and some orange juice and ate it up as quickly as my throbbing arms/hands/mouth would allow.

I slid my empty bowl into the washing up, and considered for a second whether I should actually _clean_ those dishes, but the hair gradually falling down in front of my eyes in messy dark clumps and my striped pyjamas that were beginning to reek from me being in them for so long said otherwise.

With one last casual glance at the kitchen, I turned back to the hallway and slowly made my way towards the demons known as 'stairs'. The sounds of tinkering and voices echoed up from the lab and I created a mental note to perhaps investigate later when I felt a little better.

Pain gripped my legs in turn with each step, and every now and then once I had to stop altogether because I tripped and fell on the seventh one and probably added another bruise to my collection.

At least my hunger was satisfied.

The constant reminder of pain brought back slithers of memories of my accident. Like, when I leaned too hard on the wall with my left shoulder my body recalled landing on it when I left the portal. I could picture myself just lying there, clothes, hair and skin all charred (I vaguely wondered where the evidence of burning was on my pale skin). And then there was that white light that had illuminated the entire lab before I blacked out… what could that have been? The portal, maybe? No – the only lights I remember it emitting were green and a few red…

The softness of the mattress on my bed welcomed me as I flopped (gently) onto it. I lay there on my stomach for a while before rolling over to face the ceiling. And old mobile from when I was little with spaceships hung in the corner, just a small piece of evidence of my main interest. I never liked the idea of aliens or space wars, just the whole science of flying a rocket and getting to go out amongst the stars.

I turned to lay back on my stomach again, this time also burying my head into my pillow. My hands rested, folded, under my chin and my elbows stuck out at the sides. The pain that remained throughout my body felt continuingly uncomfortable. A lot of it had morphed into a pins and needles-like sensation, with a cold chill to match. Perhaps if I wrapped myself up in my blankets…

The air was knocked from my body and I found myself gasping for breath, only to be greeted by a huge cloud of dust that I had accidently inhaled into my lungs.

I coughed and spluttered, then lifted up my head to see where I was, a little disorientated. The top hit something and I winced, eventually working out with the help of the lack of light that I was now under my bed.

But I wasn't just simply _under_ my bed.

I was _in_ the floor.

I cried out and (after managing to grab onto to something solid) scrambled to the side, grazing both my elbows on the loose nails in the floorboards on the way.

I quickly hauled myself up and crawled onto my bed, feeling myself beginning to hyperventilate. My lungs were grateful for the clean air and I tried my best to keep my breathing under control. I knew without looking into a mirror that my eyes were the size of saucers and sweat was trickling down my face. A few tiny drops landed on the bedding below me. What the heck was that? I took a deep breath and tentatively looked over the edge of my bed, right down at the floor. I reached out with one hand in a fist and gave it a knock. It seemed ok. Hard and wooden.

The most obvious idea that came to mind was that I had imagined it the sinking-into-the-ground part. After all, both my body and mind had been under a great amount of stress lately, and, with the added pressure of trying to make my parents feel better, the emotional burden I was carrying was way too large for a guy my age. That was something Jazz would definitely say, at least.

I closed my eyes and moaned to myself, bored already of just being so _weak _– weaker than I was before. I made a feeble attempt to push my worries away, but the fear of whatever had just happened happening again stayed firmly where it was at the forefront of my mind. Once or twice, I looked around me at the sheets, checking that I hadn't begun to fall through the mattress.

When I finally managed to convince myself that it simply wasn't possible for anyone to fall through things, _ever_, I shakily got my feet and plodded around my room in a pathetic attempt to find some clothes to wear.

The floor squeaked and creaked almost dangerously beneath me, but, to my relief, it stayed where it was. Almost subconsciously, I rubbed my fingers over my skin. It felt normal; hardly able to _go through_ anything, but I flinched when I felt how cold it was. In fact, when I considered this further, I _was_ cold all over. I had been shivering without realising all this time and it didn't stop when I went to check the thermostat hanging on the wall outside my room.

It said that the temperature was 59 degrees, so why was I so cold? I looked around and checked - the windows were shut and my fan was switched off and unplugged.

A sort of desperate feeling washed over me and I found myself, despite obvious hindrances, racing to the bathroom across the hall. My hand latched on to the medicine cabinet handle and I pulled it open and grabbed the thermometer.

Following the instructions closely, I switched it on and waited an exceedingly long 30 seconds for it to adjust to the room temperature. Then I carefully put it on my tongue and held it there for a full minute, faint but constant shivers running through my body.

A 'beep' sounded and it made me jump. I reacted accordingly, taking the thermometer out of my mouth and reading the temperature.

39.2 degrees.

I felt the thing slide out of my hand and fall into the sink with a ringing sound, mimicking the ones in my head. Even without comparing the number to the other (much higher) figure on the leaflet, I knew that my body temperature was way over 30 degrees below average. That was well beyond hypothermic.

I should be dead.

Why wasn't I dead?

I ran through the basic checks – breathing, pulse, et cetera – even though that was pointless. I was most definitely alive. I knew there simply _had _to be something wrong with the thermometer, not me. But it had been used perfectly well at my party when one of the guests wasn't well, and not since. I tried it again and again, watching the digital numbers rapidly drop in the mirror whenever it was placed on my tongue.

The metaphorical ringing persisted and persisted – a sound of an alarm ringing in my brain that something was _not_ right. I touched the surfaces of things, finding them to be at their normal temperature. The easy conclusion was that nothing around me was affected. It was only _me_ that was cold, as if it was me myself that was generating it.

My shivers got bigger for a second. Now that was a scary thought.

A different sound invading my own grew louder as I found myself back in my bedroom. My phone was buzzing away on my bed side table and I picked it up instantly, seeing the caller's image.

"Hey Danny," it was Sam. And, by the sounds of the more masculine echo, Tucker too. They were probably at his house.

"Oh… hi guys."

"Are you feeling ok? We heard about your, um… 'accident'."

"Are you really going to ask me that?"

"Sorry, standard question."

"Well," I gave a soft sigh and collapsed back onto my bed, "a few aches and pains here and there. But nothing to worry about though. Oh wait, there was…" I trailed off just before I told them about my temperature. Even without checking world-wide medical records, I was pretty sure no one had ever been diagnosed with a case of having a body temperature so low they could almost be a snowman. I wasn't dead, so they didn't need to know. My parents sort of knew, but I couldn't tell above everything else whether they were concerned about it or not.

"There was…?" Sam was waiting for me to continue.

"Oh, nothing. Don't worry 'bout it. Want to bring those movies around mine? You can come over, but I can't, like, leave the house or anything."

There was the sound of muttering for a few moments and Tucker called out to his mum to ask permission, but they came back with a 'yes' at the end and I smiled a bit, glad that my friends were coming over. It was the normalcy I needed right now. They told me that they would come knocking about three and then Sam hung up, cutting of Tucker mid-sentence as he tried to tell me something about a new version of 'Doomed' coming out.

Of course, that uneasy cold feeling hadn't disappeared.

The best thing for me to do was to try and fix this problem myself, I decided. I didn't want to give Mum and dad or Jazz extra stress and just make this household's situation worse. If it really was something to worry about, well… I'd think about it when the time comes.

Feeling bewildered, I plodded downstairs (with my best efforts to ignore all physical ailments) and then into the lab. Mum and Dad were huddled together over a large work bench that spanned half the length of the room. With screwdrivers and hammers in their hands, they appeared to be occupying themselves with something they were feeling very involved in.

I glanced quickly around the room; my eyes sorting through the junk flung everywhere, until I found what I was looking for- the Fenton family computer. I shuffled through the bits and pieces on the floor. It seemed that no one had bothered to clear up all the rubble from my accident yet and I wasn't prepared to have another one. The screen told me that it was already logged on, with a window up with some information on ghosts that my parents had seemed to have compiled or researched themselves.

With a quick look to check that they were still working, I opened up another tab and then used the first available search engine I could get my cursor on.

My 'try': I typed in 'cold', but I really wasn't expecting results from such a basic word. Websites came up quickly for the common cold, post-grunge bands and war. About 1,090,000,000 results in 0.17 seconds weren't narrow enough for me. The urge to laugh at my own stupidity forced me to close the tab. What was I actually doing down here? I knew I wanted to search something, but I only had the one keyword I could really use to explain it – it was, after all, an almost indescribable sensation. I needed to think this over a lot more… give a few days maybe for my condition to improve (or worsen) and go from there.

I must have spent an hour travelling from point to point in my house that day. Back up in my room again, I concluded putting on some fresher, warmer clothes may have helped in this situation. It was almost lunchtime and I was still in my pyjamas.

I took off my night-time clothes as soon as I locked my door and replaced them with a fresh, clean white top with red accents and a pair of pale blue jeans that I had spotted folded over the arm of my chair.

After brushing my teeth with ridiculously hot toothpaste and then proceeding to doing almost nothing for about ten minutes, I slowly came to realise how boring it was, as well as frustrating, to be unable to get anywhere at a decent speed without pain. I had barely been conscious for half a day and I was already sick of it – and it didn't look like a full recovery would exactly sweep by any time soon. I hobbled towards and down the stairs for the hundredth time that morning and switched on the TV in the front room. I flashed on and I reached for the remote, flicking through the channels half-heartedly. The news (about horse meat?), a baby show, a documentary on handbags, and an episode of something I'd already seen were rejected and I eventually just stopped on a cartoon.

A 13-year old black-haired boy with weird face paint was on screen with a bunch of multi-coloured robotic monkeys at his side. They glared defiantly, standing facing a giant evil-looking skeleton on a TV. It seemed random, but they were fighting each other and yelling out attack names like average super-hero shows. The TV had arms, legs and even guns, and it shot at the blue monkey who cried out a monkey scream and fell backwards in a wimpy fashion. The black monkey died and then was resurrected. That wasn't very surprising. Ever since the death and rebirth of Superman, no one has stayed dead for very long.

I laughed softly to myself and felt that the sad mood that hung in the air had been lifted slightly, but then frowned again when I reached for the remote to pause it and get a drink without looking and couldn't find it. All I could seem to get a grip on was air.

Frustrated, I looked at my hand and saw that it had changed colour. Not a small, you-have-a-tan-well-done kind of change, but I mean it was _bright blue_ – where you could see it. It was almost like an outline and the edge of this difference flowed seamlessly into my skin past my wrist, and then disappearing further up my forearm. I pulled it up to my face, my mouth ever so slightly open as I tried not to panic.

Now that I saw it close up, I saw it was more than just blue. All the 'cool colours' as your teacher would say in your art class – shades of green, purple and white. They mingled in with it and shimmered ever so faintly, catching on the natural light of the room. This part of my arm was full of the pins and needles-sensation, and attempting to grab the remote with it just confirmed my beliefs. Every time I went to touch it, the stupid thing just went through my hand. Or, technically, it was my hand that was going through the remote…

A word my parents used in reference to ghosts popped into my head.

_Intangible_.

"It means untouchable," Dad had explained to me one day when I was little, "ghosts can turn intangible to pass through stuff like walls and doors." He scooped me up and dumped me on his shoulders, leading me to a wall where I tried again and again to push my hand through.

I was considering this carefully, but the colours disappeared when I felt my hand touch plastic and I could change the channel on the TV. I could have just hallucinated – that experience was pretty wacky – but, part of me wanted to see it again.

Did my whole body go like that when I had sunk through the bed earlier? If could've stood up without going through the floor, I would have loved to see what I looked like in a mirror…

No. I was acting stupid again. This kind of stuff can't happen – it's impossible.

I switched it to the news. A short story came up about a mysterious attack on a box warehouse, but I ignored it because there was one word stuck in my thoughts which I couldn't push away.

Ghosts.

* * *

_And that's that for this week! See you all next time :D Excuse mistakes, I think I'm about to fall asleep…_


	3. Chapter 3

_Once again, everyone, thank you for your reviews! I love reading them :) I was expecting questions about the temperature measurements, and I got some. In the last version of this fic, I used the British way of measuring temperature which a lot of people were confused with, so I switched to Fahrenheit as best as I could this time. Sorry if I got some bits wrong. And it seems people are still confused, so let's just say Danny is very, very cold, mmm?_

_I just also want to take this opportunity to ask you all to visit my website! It __has all the information about my fics, my personal blog, an update calendar and a chance for you all to sign up for free, post in the forums and upload/recommend your own fanfiction! Please take a look (the link's on my profile), it'll be wonderful to have you :)_

_**The Virus: **__Was this soon? I don't particularly want to be infected…_

_**The Magnetic Witch: **__It does indeed!_

_**echgrl:**__ I tried to, but a Google converter can only get you so far~_

_**Guest: **__Have you ever considered anime? There are _always_ cute boys there…_

_**DanniFenton14: **__Me too! It seems painful, but so very fun ;')_

_**Phantom Ice: **__That was all just explained^ Thanks for your review and here's an update!_

_**DB-KT: **__Thanks for your review!_

_**DarkFoxKit:**__ I suppose he could be… it was just my favourite show alongside Danny Phantom when I was little and I though it deserved a place here :)_

_**Werido:**__I don't know, will they?_

_**Sora kazega: **__Don't worry, he gets much better at lying this chapter… I hope this one's worth it, as well!_

_**Crystalzap: **__Same here! Then, I would freak out XD_

* * *

The rest of the Saturday passed quickly. Most of my free time that day up until the evening was taken up by pain and me sitting or lying on the sofa as I thought about my body going through… things. Thinking didn't really get me anywhere, though, because I didn't have much to actually put into the thought process other than the fact my _hand had glowed blue and went through the TV remote._

Jazz appeared at half past midday and made me a lunch that consisted of cheese-on-toast and a glass of orange juice. She'd put the radio on halfway through the preparation and it came through the kitchen into the living room where I had decided I was going to spend my day (and probably most days thereafter until I got better). Even when she had left for a weekend class, it was still on and I didn't have the energy to get up and turn it off. So I left it. Sometimes, it clashed with the TV during whatever I was watching's quiet moments and that annoyed me a little. But I'd rather not have caused myself any unnecessary pain.

My parents hadn't left the lab at all, apart from the couple of times Dad needed the bathroom.I heard his heavy footsteps down the hall but he never once came to check on me. My guess was that they were both down there cleaning up after the accident, which made me feel sort of bad because I couldn't exactly go down and there and help them. For a number of reasons. Occasionally, their voices echoed through the floor, but not loud enough for me to catch their conversations.

Sam and Tucker came over at six minutes to five and I tripped over on the way to answering the door, so when they came in they pulled worried faces at me as they saw my red face and heavy breathing. I let them hang their coats up and Tucker carried his stack of monster movie DVDs into the living room and set them down on the coffee table. He said I could pick the first movie. I did.

I eased myself back down onto the sofa, which had seemed to have built up a permanent groove where I had been sitting/laying there for so long. A pillow was waiting for my head and both my friends refused to drop their looks of concern when they realised it really was a job for me to move around.

"Should I order pizza, Danny?" Sam asked me, her phone in her hand, as Tucker was setting up the film.

"Sure. I'll have the usual."

"Medium Meat Feast with stuffed crusts?"

"That's the usual."

"Yeah."

I made an observation that day that our conversations never actually lasted that long.

We managed to get through five boxes of pizza (I only had three-quarters of one) and four movies before my parents finally realised that I was still awake and then sent me to bed. Or, well, carried me because I was in too much pain and way too tired to make it up the stairs on my own. Mum said Sam and Tucker were allowed to stay over because it was gone midnight and too late to be going home. They called their parents and got permission. I didn't really speak to them because I was too busy sleeping. We had breakfast consisting of pancakes and some fudge before they went home the next morning.

And that was pretty much how the entirety of my recovering time went by, minus the friends staying over part. With every passing day it was easier for me to move around and soon I was almost walking normally again. But I still spent most of the time on the sofa watching monkey cartoons and this other show about a guy who wasn't who he thought he was that I was kind of sad to see finish. Or whatever. I actually managed to read through a whole book, which was quite the accomplishment for me, but the ending just put me in a depressed mood for the rest of that day because one of the main characters died.

Whenever Jazz was home, she made sure I was eating. She cooked my dinner every evening after having a quiet word with my dad that he 'may not be doing the best job for meeting [my] current dietary requirements'. Being the psychology person she was, she spent most of her time with me trying to get me to answer all sorts of her questions based on the grounds that she was going to put them in a thesis of hers about human responses to recovery from major accidents. I wasn't sure if I believed her, though – she might have made that up just to see how I was feeling and give me someone to chat with. Because, hey, I only really had two friends and I couldn't keep talking to them. I tried my best not to fall through things because, yes, it was still happening. And, no, I still hadn't thought of an answer. After a while I decided that I probably never would and my brain just kind of awkwardly left it that, which surprisingly made the blue-glowyness occur less. I was glad no one but me had seen it happen. I didn't really know why I wanted no one to know, but some sort of instinct told me to keep quiet and I'd maybe find the answer later. I told myself just to worry about getting better. So, I did that. And nothing particularly significant happened. I just let it do its thing and watched it with a kind of weirded-out curiosity.

It was two Tuesdays after my accident that Mum spoke to me again, properly, alone. I was expecting a long speech about how she was sorry, and then I would try my best not to fall through anything and reply with how I was sorry and then we'd hug and then kind of go back to normal with our relationship. But she still looked really… damaged… when she came into the room.

I wasn't expecting her, of course. Luckily, my hand managed to find the remote so I could pause the TV.

"Danny," she sat down next to me and folded her hands on her lap. "I think it's time you went to back to school."

Of all the things I'd guess she'd say, that really wasn't one of them.

"Um…what?" My reaction was natural and teenager-ish. A feeling of dread began to wash through me when my mind wondered to the untouched box upstairs, the one full of Mr Lancer's homework.

"It's been a couple of weeks since your… accident… and, after discussing it with your father and sister, we've decided that you seem healthy enough to carry on with your schoolwork. And that homework that Mr Lancer set you? Did you do it?"

"Of course I did, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to go to school yet," the lie fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Yes, you are. The bus is coming soon. Go and get out of those dirty pyjamas and put something decent on."

"…Fine."

So it seemed like the first proper conversation Mum wanted to have with me was an argument.

I called Sam and Tucker to say that I was going in and they weren't that surprised. Sam suggested we met by the arcade and then got a bus from there so I could go with them, which was nice.

I no longer considered the stairs creatures from the depths of hell, as pain didn't shoot through my body anymore when I tried to walk up or down them. My room was unusually tidy because I'd had so much idle time in the past fortnight with nothing else to really do. I had figured on one of the Fridays that if my parents to push past emotional barriers to clean the lab, I could push past laziness barriers to clean my bedroom.

"Just make sure you get there on time!" her voice called up after me.

My usual daily routine had become usual for the first time in a while, so I was a bit disoriented with doing everything so quickly again. I got dressed and had a super-quick shower even though there wasn't really time for one (I generally had to get up early if I wanted one of those) and brushed my teeth. Now, though, I had another little thing to add onto the end of my list: checking my temperature.

The screen had displayed that impossible temperature again and again ever since I'd started checking. It was always beyond hypothermic, but either way I was still alive. So I actually had no idea why I continued to bother with it. It _really_ was a very unnatural thing, and the battle inside my mind as to whether I should tell someone was still being fought. A doctor was the best option because they weren't my overbearing sister or currently-emotionally-imbalanced parents, but this would go on my medical record and people looked at my medical record.

The whole thing still kept a frown on my face as I made my way back down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Jazz had poured me a glass of orange juice and some cereal. I wolfed it down, glad that, for once, my food decided to stay in my stomach and pass through my intestines with zero pain or nausea. So guess I really was better, despite a few major problems, that is.

She was on her way out of the house at the same time and I grinned and knocked her bag out of her hand as I headed to the front door, my own already on my shoulders.

My fortnight without the normalities of sibling rivalry needed to end.

"Wha- Danny! What was that for?" She called after me as I bent down to tie my shoelaces.

"Oh, What now, Jazz?" A grin spread on my face and I shuffled round to face her.

"Come back here and pick my bag up."

"Why should I? You're right next to it. You do it."

Her arms were folded and her lips were pursed in a frustrated sort of pout. "I wasn't the one that dropped it, was I?"

I snorted. What I did was really pointless, but the whole no-longer-in-agony thing needed to be celebrated.

Giving her a mocking look, I shuffled over to pick her backpack up. But just before my hand came into contact with the leather, a cool feeling spread its way throughout my hand and forearm. I didn't have to look down to know its appearance was most likely now an icy blue and, therefore, completely intangible. Not to mention scientifically impossible.

Currently, this was more annoying and damaging to my pride than something to worry about. I had a sister to mess with and not pay back for all the food she had cooked for me over the past two weeks. I didn't need to be dealing with this.

"Everything OK, Danny?" irritation was evident in her voice. This wasn't going how I wanted it to go down.

"Uh, yeah," I used my other hand to pick it up, hiding the first behind my back. I put an innocent smile on my face.

Jazz narrowed her eyes and grunted at me as she left, but didn't say another word. I knew she would probably still cook dinner for me that evening.

My eyes subconsciously fell to my hand, which was still shimmering with unnatural colour. The more I stared, the more I noticed I could actually see a fair bit through it, too, which made me wonder where exactly the bones, muscles and tendons in my hands were right now.

Experimentally, I lifted my (currently normal) left hand and tried to touch it. My fingers fell right through and a tingle passed through both of my hands as I felt a jolt of extra cold fire up my nerves. Even my intangible fingers passed through my other intangible fingers, I realised as I tried clicking.

If only I could get control of this… thing. Oh, all the things I could do with it! No more being stuck in lockers, for one. I could just… phase… myself out.

I didn't care what anyone else would think - this was amazing.

But where exactly was the source of it all? When did it all start happening? I found myself pacing up and down a small section of the hall, my hand still intangible. There was a mirror to my left and I randomly glanced at myself as I tried to remember. I noticed then that my black hair had lost some of its shine and it hung down around my face in a slightly limper way than usual. My face had become paler than I recalled but I blamed that all on the lack of sun and sleep I'd had over the past fortnight.

My eyes widened.

"The accident," I said out loud, "It started after the _accident_."

That was the answer! The accident had definitely done _something_ to me. Of course, other than the intangibility, I had no idea exactly what it was, but…

My phone buzzed and my train of thought slipped away. I reluctantly pulled it out of my pocket and unlocked it. The message was from Tucker, asking where I was. You couldn't really interpret much from a text, but he 'sounded' annoyed. I had taken so long to get ready, and then there was the incident with Jazz's bag and the hand thing (which had gone away now, something I was both thankful for and not).

I had to forget about all that for now and I quickly checked that I had everything before heading outside. After I locked the door (not bothering to call out a goodbye because the lab was soundproof), neon lights guided me down the front steps and out into the street, where I broke into a run. The arcade was only a block or two away so getting there was easy, despite my sort of weak legs. As I was running, I faintly realised that I felt faster than usual, but that was probably only because I'd become so used to barely moving at all. My body seemed lighter and I could put less effort into moving my legs than I thought I would need too after just recovering from a major accident.

Sam and Tucker were there, as promised, waiting for me. Sam had her arms vaguely crossed and a mildly frustrated expression on her face as she caught sight of me appearing round the corner. Tucker called out the time to her from his PDA. I didn't catch it, but it was obvious that I was late. Her face fell, though, when she saw me running. Normally, going at that speed in my only-just-improved condition wasn't recommended.

"What took you so long, Danny?" Tucker was oblivious to it, and his voice held hints of boredom, "we've been waiting here for _ages_. You're lucky the bus isn't here yet. Do you have money to buy a ticket?"

"Forget about that, Tucker," Sam stepped forward and put her hand on my shoulder before I could reply. It was a struggle for me not to look at that part of my body sternly and tell it not to turn luminous blue, which I had actually done once or twice in the past few days when I was carrying something heavy. "Are you alright now, Danny? You look a lot better, but…"

"I'm fine, don't worry," I replied, almost carefully. I couldn't let anything slip about the current self-diagnosed weirdness of my condition.

As she pulled her hand away, Sam brushed against my arm which was not covered by a layer of clothing. "Oh my gosh! Danny, you're freezing!" the goth exclaimed, more worry in her voice than surprise "aren't you cold in just a t-shirt? You need to put on something warmer – it's almost October and you're running around after being out of it for two weeks in short sleeves."

"Speak for yourself, Sam," Tucker butted in, eyeing her tank top, "if I might say so, you're wearing even less than Danny is."

I swear Sam blushed.

"I don't really feel cold at all," I said to them (more to Sam because Tucker didn't really seem to be worried). In all honesty, I did feel cold – I had to have been because my temperature was right down, but it felt almost _normal_. Natural… weird.

"You might have a fever or something," Sam aimlessly said, "but you're cold, not hot."

I shrugged, "yeah, could be. I'll talk to my parents about it when I get home later," I lied. A thought came to me that the cold sensation in my body also appeared alongside the intangibility and then increased when it 'activated'. There had to be a link, but for now there was another question in my mind. How exactly could a burning electric shock make you cold? It fries you, not freezes you until your average body temperature becomes like the undead.

The bus rumbled into view and I could see from here that it was almost full. I'd probably need to stand – it's a lucky thing if I even got a seat anyway because of my position in the social hierarchy.

Sam had to elbow Tucker in the ribs to drawn his attention back from his PDA. Like me, he was now fumbling in his pockets for money. The doors of the vehicle had opened and I could feel the bus driver's eyes impatiently on us when Sam shoved us forward and slammed a bill down on the cash tray.

"Pay me back later," she grumbled to us when we got our tickets.

If you're considered a 'nerd' like me, you automatically get stared at in public if people know who you are. Jocks and cheerleaders are on the lookout to victimize someone and nerd-spotting-and-catching seemed to be a widespread pastime amongst the populars at Casper High.

But, today, everyone's eyes were on me for a different reason. It was inevitable that rumours would be spread about my accident, yet I still hadn't prepared for them. Mumbles and whispers began to circulate around the bus as it started up again and rolled forwards.

"Is that Fenton?"

"Look, Mikey, Fenton's back!"

"The one who got blasted in that accident?"

"I heard he spent like a week in intensive care or something."

"Oh my gosh, he looks so pale. Ewww."

"Hey, Fen-turd!"

…And, there was Dash again.

He sat at the back of the bus in the middle, surrounded by his ilk on both sides. I wanted desperately for the vehicle to jerk forward or something so I could see him faceplant onto the floor. But, alas, my wish had not been granted.

He raised a hand and signalled for me to come over. I didn't at first but someone pushed me and I found myself face to face with my personal high-school bully for the first time in ages (and it was a good ages).

"What?" I asked flatly.

"I heard you were in an accident or something, Fenton. Got hit real bad. Everyone was surprised you weren't dead."

"Yeah, well why do you care?"

He smirked. "I don't. I just wanted to know if it's safe beat you up. I don't want charges."

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

* * *

I made my way to the front entrance of the school, Sam and Tucker on one side of me engaged in a heated conversation on the topic of food ethics.

Mr Lancer was leaning against the side of the door, clearly looking out for me. The vision of the homework box back in my room sprung back to the front my mind and I groaned inwardly, hoping that he wouldn't ask.

"Ah, Mr Fenton," he relaxed from his position, "it's good to see you finally back at school. Your mother called me this morning, saying you had completed the homework I set you. But, I daresay I don't see it on your person anywhere, Daniel."

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously, "uh, about that, Mr Lancer, sir. I took the bus this morning, and it was a little hard to carry a whole box full of paper in so I was kinda forced to leave it at home."

He seemed slightly disappointed, but the look on his face told me that he understood. I surprised myself that I was able to actually lie so easily, but I supposed it came from so much practice recently.

The overweight teacher sighed. "Very well," he said to me (Sam and Tucker had gone), "But I expect to see it on the desk in my office by tomorrow, please."

I nodded sharply, "Yes, of course, sir."

"Anyway, you best come with me," he stood up straight, "you have english with me first period and now you're here we might as well get to class. We don't want anyone… bothering you," he caught sight of the new bruise on my shoulder.

* * *

"Can someone please give these plays out?" Mr Lancer looked round the class. No volunteers. Or, at least, the ones paying attention didn't want to be a volunteer.

His eyes rested on me. "Daniel? How about you?" without waiting for an answer, he lugged a pile of twenty-five books over to my desks and dropped them there before heading back to the board to write this lesson's title and the date. I shot a look at the cover of the top play, which read _Romeo and Juliet_.

Shakespeare. Again.

I wrapped my arms around the great pile and struggled with it until I'd dropped off at least seven onto other desks – I couldn't even see in front of me for a while. The stupid corners were digging into my face.

I'd just got around about half the class, ignoring the teacher's monotone voice as he introduced the two families in the play and their relationship background, when I felt the now familiar cold spread through my arms. I rolled my eyes before the books even went crashing to the floor.

Everyone looked up. Most of them laughed.

This was when worry began to set in for the first time. Not so much as to _what_ was happening to me, but _when_. My arms had changed back to their regular colour almost instantly, but what if my whole body went intangible like that time on the bed? I still hadn't figured out how to control it, or even if I ever would. It could happen any time, in front of anyone.

"Mr Fenton, what is going on over there?" Mr Lancer had paused in his writing and was looking at me and the sprawled-around books, rather annoyed.

"Oh, I dropped them. Sorry."

"Just finish your job."

Dash was leaning back on his chair when I got to him, legs crossed up on his desk. He was at the back of the classroom so the overweight teacher wouldn't notice, but even if he did there wouldn't be much he could do. Dash, being the most popular guy in school, had rules of his own. He sneered when I chucked a play in front of him and I did the same back, earning a momentarily confused look but then it just returned to unamused raised eyebrows.

I turned my back and felt something small, wet and sticky hit my neck. Gross. It had to be a spitball.

Laughter erupted from the jocks behind me, and I heard Dash exchange hi-fives with his friends.

"Yeah, ha ha very funny," I muttered sarcastically as I used one hand to prise it off. I was tempted to throw it back, but that would just be me digging myself a bigger hole.

Next, I realised, was Paulina. She leaned forward on her desk, face angled up at me provocatively. I couldn't stop the faint red flush from appearing on my face and when she worked out that she had won, she giggled and pulled out a box of disposable rubber gloves from her bag. It was so obvious she knew I had a crush on her.

"Sorry," she slipped one on and took a book from my pile, "I don't want _nerd_ germs all over my fingers." Her friend _Star_ (that couldn't have been her real name, could it?) chuckled next to her and did the same.

I gritted my teeth and said nothing, knowing it would get me nowhere. I just walked calmly back to my desk after dropping off the rest of the plays.

"OK," I tuned back in to Mr Lancer's voice for a second, "please turn to page 17 and read scene four all the way through. When you're done, answer the questions I am currently writing on the board."

Ignoring the play in front of me, I found my thoughts had drifted back to my accident. The scene was playing though my head, or, rather, what I could remember of it. A lot of it was a blur after I stepped inside the ghost portal.

And there was that word again. _Ghosts_.

Well… it was a 'ghost portal'.

So what exactly had happened to me that day, after it switched on and I got fried? I racked my brain, trying to recall some of the ghost-related things Dad had told me, since that seemed like the best route to take.

So, I knew that they could make themselves intangible, like I seemed to be able to do. They're pale because they're dead and everyone knows that rooms usually get colder when a ghost enters it.

Wait.

My eyes widened and I almost jumped out of my seat.

Was I… some sort of ghost?

* * *

_Chapter three done! I hope it was good enough for you all._


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter, even early on, sort of marks a milestone. The final one from my old account has been rewritten! In a way, I'm glad I didn't get very far on that version, but I'm also panicking that, for the next six chapters, I'll have nothing to directly work from until 'Mystery Meat' begins…_

_**princessbinas: **__I'm glad you think so! And there will be some, but maybe not for a while yet…_

_**DarkFoxKit: **__I'm still trying to think of how to write that :/ it's difficult and I'm working out the best way to tackle it. But I'm excited to see that part finished, too! Here's more for you~!_

_**DB-KT:**__ (I'm glad he noticed)_

_**werido: **__You count three chapters as a while? Ok._

_**The Virus: **__OH DEAR YOU'RE SCARING ME HERE HAVE AN UPDATE IDON'TWANTOTDIE :)_

_**Phantom Ice: **__I did, yes c: Thanks for your review!_

_**Harpfire: **__I've kept going~!_

_**Crystalzap: **__My own little brother is definitely not the kind of person who would that… then again, unless I was forced, I'd never cook him dinner *applauds Jazz*_

_**sora kazega: **__Actually, this chapter wasn't fun for me *headdeask* hardest to write so far… I hope you like it, though!_

_**SailorSea: **__Actually it's not… but close with the mirror! Thanks and enjoy 3_

_**Trackjunkie8: **__I'm so glad you like it! And yes, this is the rewritten version._

* * *

Ghosts.

My whole body stiffened. My breath hitched.

Did ghosts breathe?

No.

But how do I know that? Legends, movies, books… parents that had _never actually seen one._ AKA: Fiction.

My fingers flew instinctively to my wrist, fumbling around for a few seconds before locating my pulse. My skin was icy to the touch but I refused to flinch away until I could feel beats under my fingertips, which was difficult, as my arms – no, my whole body – was starting to visibly shake.

Was anyone looking at me? Don't look at me.

It was unnervingly slow and faint, but still there. So I wasn't dead, hopefully.

I jerked when my hand became intangible and slipped through my wrist, then the book beneath. Hastily, I buried that arm under the desk. At this point, I was surprised that I wasn't hyperventilating. Isn't this something that someone would usually panic about? Everything was slowly beginning to creep in. Coldness. Intangibility. Slow pulse. I was back in school now, I should have gotten better by now. I should have been ok now. I'd been pushing all these thoughts away because I thought they would go away. And now I was slowly realising that they didn't, and probably never would.

But ghosts were dead beings – and I was sure I wasn't dead.

Then again, what does being dead feel like, anyway? No one had ever come back from the grave to tell us.

Glancing nervously around the room, I saw that most of the class was absorbed in their plays. The ones that weren't were busy passing notes to each other.

I slowly raised my hand. No one noticed.

"What is it, Daniel?" Mr Lancer asked almost instantly.

"Um… can I please be excused?"

"What for?"

"…The bathroom, sir."

Dash snorted. Paulina giggled. Sam and Tucker shot worried glances at me. I didn't know why.

There was a frown on my teacher's face as he regarded me, and a long while before he nodded.

"Danny isn't… very well, is he?" - Tucker's voice to Sam, a quiet whisper I managed to pick up on as I made my way to the door. He was leaning his elbow on her desk, and they both had their expressions focused in my direction when I put my hand on the door handle.

I don't think Sam ever replied to him, or if she did it was after I left the room. The classroom door clicked behind me and I was left, alone, to face the empty hall. My footsteps barely echoed as I walked, despite the large space. I was noticing how weightless my body felt more and more as I walked, but I didn't know what to put it down to just yet. It could have simply been the fact that I hadn't really put on any weight since the accident – I supposed all I had eaten in the past few weeks and more had gone into making my recovery possible. My shower earlier showed me that I was just skin and bones.

Ghosts.

The word was there, a persistent noise in my head. I bit my lip as I thought, only stopping when I felt blood spill into my mouth. The metallic taste I was expecting felt almost diluted and replaced partly with something bitter that almost burned when I swallowed.

I couldn't even be bothered to question that. Everything, even I if didn't know why, led to one answer.

My hands were balled into fists in my pockets and my right nails too broke the skin, oozing liquid that felt too thick into my palm. Before it stained my jeans, I pulled my hand out and glanced, not even hesitantly, at it. There wasn't any colour change (why was I expecting a colour change?) but _something_ was different. Blood was shiny, sure, but this just looked… different. It reflected the light in odd ways as I titled my palm back and forth and glinted and shined in the wrong places. I considered momentarily whether I should taste that, too, but someone was coming, which resulted in me curling my wet hand into a fist and keeping it close to my chest, pretending to scratch.

The janitor definitely recognised me as we passed each other, but instead of his usual 'don't get stuck in your locker' warning look, his face seemed to hold a hint of concern when he saw me.

I looked back at him when he was facing away. Did I really look that bad?

I went straight up to the first mirror after opening the door and walking into the bathroom. I shoved my hand under the tap, the cold of it rivalling that of my own skin. The blood mixed with the water, turning it an odd pink as it diluted and slid down the plug hole. My face was blank as I watched it go down, and didn't shift in appearance as I looked up.

_Oh, God._

My face was deathly pale, the bags under my eyes and unhealed bruises on my skin only highlighted more by the overexposure of the white bathroom lights. My hair, despite being washed well that morning, hung down in dull clumps and my eyes seemed to reflect nothing. My lips were almost drained of colour and the absentness of any emotion on my face made everything just look _worse_.

Was this what a ghost looked like?

It took me some time to take it all in. Why hadn't Jazz noticed this morning? Or any other time? Did I always look like this, ever since the accident?

A sigh escaped my lips and I turned round to lean on the wall tiles before sliding down onto the floor. Jazz had suggested early on that it might have been a good idea for me to see a therapist or something after the portal accident, but I had instantly refused. I didn't need one then, and, even if I think I did now, how could I see anybody looking like this?

Being fried certainly isn't the best thing for your health. Everyone – including me – knew that it would take a while for me to recover. I could easily guess to expect some pains, sickness and weight loss. But that couldn't even explain my impossible body temperature, let alone touch on the intangibility.

There was something that could explain it, and I forced myself to accept it.

What Mum and Dad, Jazz, Sam and Tucker, Mr Lancer and the Janitor all saw today was a dead boy. Me.

There were lots of things still to be considered about the truth of that statement, but, at this moment, there was no other answer I could think of.

"_He was hospitalised with an awful case of ecto-acne."_

That man had had the same accident. On a smaller scale, of course. But what my subconscious had found what it was looking for in that small memory.

Ecto. Ghosts.

Another piece of evidence for my current condition had found its way into my head. Yipee.

I brought my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them. There was no warmth anywhere where I was sitting. Not in the wall pressed against my back, or coming up from the floor. Not even from inside myself. Nothing else was scaring me as much as that. My body seemed to be accepting it, drawing it in and buzzing pleasantly as I froze from the inside out. I didn't even shiver.

I ran my tongue along my teeth. So, maybe I could live (live?) with this. I could probably go outside in the winter shirtless and make snow angels without feeling a thing. I didn't really need to class it as a 'major problem' yet. What would happen to my body in the heat was another question that flashed through my thoughts, but summer was a year away. Plenty of time. I needed to worry about other, more important things. Like finding a way to control my body's ability to randomly and casually fall through things.

Shame that I didn't know any other ghosts I could talk to.

I'd need to keep people from finding out about me, hopefully for the long term. That included, I decided, Sam and Tucker. Telling them would probably cause more damage than keeping it a secret. Chances are (accidently or not), they'd spread it to some of their other friends at the clubs they go to.

I stood up again and ignored my face in the mirror, turning on the cold tap for the second time and splashing freezing water over my face. My skin tingled in the least painful way possible - instead of instinctively making my body flinch away - welcoming the icy buzz. I did it again, receiving the same reaction.

Jeez, was I actually enjoying this? Being _dead_?

Forcing myself away, I hastily dried my face with my shirt and headed back to class, attempting to do what I had been doing the past week - forget. The hall remained empty for the entirety of my short journey – no Janitor in sight.

When I arrived back, everyone now had their noses in their plays and were reading them half-heartedly as they realised we had already covered it a few weeks ago with a substitute teacher. I tried to put a content expression on my face; not too happy but enough to stop looking so horrible.

It was surprising when no one looked up as I came into the room. Not even Mr Lancer silently glanced from grading papers until he heard the door shut. Sam and Tucker's heads whipped round as well, but they remained quiet. After a few moments, they had begun to start glancing at each other again without so much as a nod in my direction. I kept my eyes on them as I walked over to my desk and sat down. Sam had a slip of paper tucked inside her play and was writing something. Instead of reading, she was passing notes to Tucker, who was also completely ignoring his play. I leaned over slightly until I was close enough to see exactly what my two friends had written. Judging by the handwriting, Sam was the first to start the chain off.

_I don't think so. We really need to get him to talk. If it's not his accident, something else is bothering._

_I guess, yeah. We'll ask him at lunch._

_Let's hope he doesn't avoid the question. It's getting sort of annoying._

_Agreed. I hope it's nothing too serious._

_Did you see his face? He looked like he hadn't slept in a week! And he's taking ages in the bathroom._

_It's kind of worrying. What if he's got something bad? It could be a really gross disease._

_I hope not. And no further discussion on that matter. What Danny does in the bathroom is his own business, I suppose._

_But we're still going to ask him about it?_

…_Yeah_

_Hypocrite :')_

Sam laughed silently when she read Tucker's last note, and then she looked across at me. I smiled and shrugged, signalling to the piece of paper she was holding in her right hand.

Her face was completely blank, as if she was staring right through me. I frowned at her, narrowing my eyes a bit when she gave no reaction. Then, hoping Mr Lancer wouldn't see, I waved my arms around a bit. Sam's look didn't change; without even a small smile, the goth turned away and slid the note chain into her bag, having finished her conversation with Tucker. She finally began to read her book. Tucker was doing the same. He didn't even look up at me.

I turned my head to the Jocks at the back of room, and after to Paulina. Neither of them paid any attention, even when I stuck my tongue out.

They haven't got some kind of stupid joke going on, have they?

After a few minutes, Mr Lancer lifted his head and called over at us, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Sam, Tucker, is Mr Fenton back yet?" he asked my two friends.

Sam shook her head and shrugged, "No, Mr Lancer."

Oh, so they've got him involved, too? Ouch, nice.

I gave Sam a confused (and rather annoyed) look, but she was looking at me like I was an empty desk. When she turned back to her book, I reached out my hand to touch her shoulder and get her attention.

But I couldn't see my hand.

I bit back a scream. I mean, I could feel it, but it just wasn't _there. _A small squeak finally managed to escape my mouth and I blinked rapidly before checking my other arm. In an unnervingly unsurprising way, that was invisible as well. I lifted my shoulders and glanced over my whole body. That, along with my clothes, had also vanished.

I was shaking now, much like I had done a while ago before I left for the bathroom. I clenched and unclenched my fists, my mouth hanging open a bit, as I marvelled, above everything else, that I was actually _invisible_. It was indeed an odd sensation, but I think my brain had had enough surprises to last a lifetime – what was one more? A quick brush of my right hand on my pen, I realised I could still pick things up. Not that I would want to at the moment though. Floating stationery wasn't common in human society.

I actually felt myself smile out of relief. Everything was adding up and fitting together - it was too much of a coincidence - and I supposed that was why I felt happier. The accident had killed me (which wasn't something too great), and I was a ghost (which could be interesting). I may have not looked like a typical one, but I was one all the same.

But whenever something good happened, there was always something bad around the corner. Judging by the randomness of my intangibility, I could become visible at any second. I needed to subtly leave class before that happened. Just appearing out of thin air is not the correct way to keep your being dead a secret. The reminder that I need to learn control of these things was with me again lest I didn't want to carry on with my life as normal as possible. Or, rather, afterlife.

What a strange thought.

I seemed to be numb to everything at the moment. That comment was absolutely terrifying and yet my reaction was almost non-existent.

I tried my best not to make any noise as my invisible feet tiptoed along the floor, sticking close the wall and trying to keep my breathing low and quiet. Currently, the only sounds in the class were the occasional flips of pages turning and the scribbling of Mr Lancer marking work. My hand curled slowly around the handle of the door and I was about to push forward, but instinct stopped me. A door can't open by itself, idiot!

Great. I was stuck. Even if it could have been passed off as a draught, someone would still get up to close it again, leaving me in a very awkward position.

I supposed there was only one way around this.

Standing perfectly still, I thought hard to remember how I felt when I was intangible. If I got it right, I might have been able to phase through the door. I remembered the cold, numb feeling that would spread across my body and the way my skin would turn a stunning, faintly glowing and translucent icys blue. Nothing happened, and my confident expression was beginning to falter.

Suddenly, cold spread throughout my being and out to the very tips of my fingers, almost making me gasp out loud at the rush.

I was intangible. I couldn't see it, but the feeling was definitely there.

My body, almost not affected by gravity, reached an arm through the wood of the door experimentally. A huge grin spread on my face. It had worked.

I felt practically weightless as I passed through the door. My skin tingled as it happened, and it settled as an odd feeling in my stomach that went away quickly. From a normal person's point of view, the hall was completely unoccupied. But for me, there was a dead boy running quietly through it, round corners and grinning as he rushed silently past the janitor – who was oblivious to his existence save for a small draught of air. I felt myself flicker in and out of existence a couple of times and my speed faltered when I decided to head to the bathroom.

I chuckled to myself when the door shut behind me and I was sure I was alone. In a way, I supposed that I could try to be kind of happy. Being as I was could have some advantages if I learned a little control. Hurrying to a mirror, I wanted suddenly to prove to myself that no one could see me. My reflection wasn't there; I couldn't see a single one of the faces I pulled.

The rush eventually calmed down and I found myself positioned on a closed toilet seat in one of the cubicles, trying occasionally to force my body back to visibility. The bell rung for the end of the period and I had to lock the door when someone else came in, followed by some others. I didn't mind waiting – something told me that my appearance would soon return.

I quietly listened to the conversations and worked out that it was Dash and a lot of the football team. They sounded like they were splashing tap water at each other and I rolled my eyes and willed them to hurry and go away. Not because I might be discovered – they were just annoying.

The door opened again and the voices stopped.

"Danny?" I heard Tucker's voice, "Danny, are you in here?"

His footsteps came closer to my cubicle door and, much to my discomfiture, knocked.

"Is that you, Danny? I brought your bag."

My head fell into my hands as laughter echoed throughout the bathroom.

"Yeah, Fen-turd!" Dash's nasally voice joined in, "what're ya doin' in there? You haven't come out in a while."

Some ridiculous noises sounded afterwards and I bit back a reply, instead just saying quietly, "thanks, Tuck. Chuck it over?"

"See you at lunch," he said as the bag landed by my feet.

I think Dash and his gang got bored after a while because I never bothered to reply, and then they left when the bell went again. My body was still invisible, which was the reason why I spent another fifteen minutes in there before realising I could see my arms and legs. I had biology now – a class that neither Sam nor Tucker were in.

I walked out into the hall, my bag over my shoulders, still inconspicuously checking that there were no random holes in my body.

The person who I had to sit next to in biology was known as Valerie Gray. She was up there in with the populars (Paulina's gang), but we shared a desk because our teacher, Mrs Ward, insisted her class both sat and worked in alphabetical order. I had never spoken to her much and neither she to me, which I supposed was a good thing. Because, even if she left all the work for me to do myself when we were paired for projects, I never got any insults from her.

She was the first to look up from her work as I walked in, narrowing her eyes at me as our glances met. I temporarily panicked and, without moving too much, checked that I hadn't turned invisible again. She was wearing a yellow tank top and an orange skirt – an unusual combination for her, but it brought out the colour of the highlights she had put in her hair. Even if I never said anything, I was sort of glad that I noticed.

Mrs Ward regarded me, putting down her whiteboard pen when she saw me sit down. "Daniel Fenton," she asked, her eyes peeked over her round glasses, "is there a reason for your late arrival?"

"Uh," I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand as my lie formed in my head, "I… went to the nurse's office. I… had a uh, stomach ache."

"Alright, but next time, I expect a note."

I nodded and pulled my textbooks out of my bag, while also checking that Tucker hadn't forgotten to pick anything of mine up.

"Please copy up your notes from someone when you get the time," she said after a moment's pause, "we're carrying on with our lesson last week on the circulatory system when you weren't here, Daniel. I'm sure Miss Grey would happily explain exactly what we're doing today, but due to the lack of time, I'll give you a few written instructions." She leaned over her desk and slipped the paper that she'd ripped out of her notebook onto ours, "now, don't go cutting yourself too deep. Remember, it's only an experiment."

I shot her a confused glance, but I took it anyway and opened my book, shuffling my seat closer the microscope that sat, waiting, in front of me.

"What was that look you gave me earlier for?" I quietly asked Valerie as I switched the machine on, adjusting the lens.

"Nothing," she replied bluntly, not looking up from her own work (I was actually surprised she carried on, let alone answered me at all), "you just looked really ill and I was kinda worried, but I guess that's already been sorted, right?"

She hadn't looked like she was worried at all, to be honest.

"…Yeah…" I replied, then, "I thought you didn't even like me that much?"

"You seem like an OK guy, Fenton," I saw her smile slightly, "but," she added afterwards and finally looked up, "I've got a reputation to uphold and that means, outside of lessons, no hanging out with the likes of you."

"Likewise."

She laughed. Whether it was directly aimed at me or not, I wasn't too sure. Girls confused me.

Yawning, I glanced down at the slip of paper Mrs Ward had given to me, scanning the instructions.

_1 – Take sterilised surgical scalpel and gently cut through skin on index finger using writing hand, then drip the blood onto petri dish._

_2 – Wash finger thoroughly and then cover with provided Band-Aid,_

_3 – Put dish under microscope and write down findings. We will share results at the end of class._

So I was to be seeing my blood again? I wasn't too worried about that (in fact I felt rather curious), but I didn't really want anyone else to be seeing that.

As I picked up my scalpel, my hand turned intangible and I instantly rushed to push it under my desk.

"Danny?" I heard Valerie's voice, "what are you doing?"

Such were today's problems.

* * *

_See you all next week! c:_


	5. Chapter 5

_Woah! Sorry for the sudden and unexpected hiatus there, guys! Even I was surprised when there was no update XD Well, it's here now, although it may be a little on the rough side because I was so pumped about finally posting it, so I probably missed a few things as I was checking it over for spelling and grammar and so forth. I am doing the #phanniemay challenge, so there is a short one shot from me daily if you really want to read some of my writing. _

_Enjoy!_

_**Yin and Yang:**__ It may sound strange, but I am considering a __**Sam/Tucker**__ pairing for this fic. This is because their closer relationship in /Secret/ is the main cause of this AU. Danny is very much like an unwanted third wheel and therefore his love interest will /probably/ be __**Valerie**__... I'm __**not too sure yet**__, though! Your opinions?_

_**Trackjunkie8:**__ Woah! Calm down dear! c: Here's the next one, stop worrying yourself~_

_**U:**__ Keepin' it going..._

_**Lol:**__ Here's...next...chapter!_

_**DarkFoxKit:**__ It would be, so I'm putting as much effort in as I can. I'm glad you like it!_

_**Werido:**__ Yep, this is where it all starts. There's action in this one, so it really feels like it's kicking off..._

_**Fan Girl:**__ Great! Here it is!_

_**Crystalzap:**__ Oh, I'm sure we'll have a bit of that, yes~_

_**Phantom Ice:**__ And here's the results of that test! Plus, a lot of musings from our favourite little ghost boy c:_

_**The Virus:**__ What kind of virus is it? Does it give me ghost powers? *Yes please*_

_**sora kazega:**__ I hope I won't let you down with this one, then! :D_

_**princessbinas:**__ I'm going to try and include comedic scenes, but omg they are /so/ difficult to get right. ;) I'll see what I can do for you!_

* * *

School, despite its pressures and stressful atmosphere, is a place for learning. To me, I don't learn things all of the time – most of it is common sense to be honest; unless it's something specific to remember for an exam. And the only way to do that is studying for hours just to recall a few things that probably won't occur again in your life. Your teachers say they will. But, most of the time, that outlook is completely untrue. I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up – but my being a ghost now had caused me to wonder whether I was actually going to do anymore growing in the first place. Which branched out into thousands of other problems that ranged from buying older-rated DVDs to my parents noticing my body never changing at all. I didn't need to think about that, because, as it turned out, I learned something that biology lesson that I _would_ actually need to know to carry on with my life.

Yes, _life_. Not afterlife. Well, perhaps both.

After pricking my finger and being a wimp about that tiny amount of pain on my skin (which, I realised, was still fairly sensitive), I'd dropped some of the shimmery blood onto the petri dish. I had to keep it from Valerie and the teacher's view, so I shoved it under the microscope as quickly as I could. Now, I wasn't too into the organic side of science – my expertise seemed to lie in the mechanics and engineering area of things, but I'd known enough to know what a 'regular' strand of human DNA looked like. And also what a ghost's was from my parents' point of view.

Through adjusting lenses and squinting into the machine at various angles, I'd come to observe that my DNA was perhaps a mix of both. Some of the ladder-y-rung-things (hey, I knew what they looked like, not the names) were as they should have been for a living person, but others were a neon green – the colour of ghosts' ectoplasm. This was probably what gave my blood its shining qualities. I'd counted and compared (while being sure no one was watching) and came to the answer that these ectoplasm parts and the normal parts were exactly fifty-fifty with each other on each strand, almost alternating at some points. This discovery led me to a conclusion that seemed plausible enough: I was a sort of human/ghost hybrid. A half ghost. Well, this conclusion wouldn't usually be plausible if it weren't for my accident, but having ghost-like and human-like qualities all seemed to finally add up. It was definitely the portal that did it, and I made a mental note to investigate that massive machine further when my parents finally drew themselves away from it. It was like some sort of realisation switch had flicked on inside of me – my situation was all a matter of accepting inevitable truths, and then moving forward from there. I would try my best.

Although, my new not-being-entirely-human meant that I couldn't answer the questions set for the class properly, which forced me to proceed only by subtly glancing over at Valerie's work whenever she wasn't looking, copying her and adjusting my answers where I could. The lesson finished and it turned out that we never had time anyway to come together as a class and read out our findings. My efforts battling intangible and invisible limbs were wasted.

Math passed in a similar way. Sam or Tucker weren't in that class either, and there was no forced seating plan like in biology so I sort of sat there on my own and worked my way through algebra equations (that I didn't understand because I hadn't done the homework) for the whole period while Dash sent spit balls at me at frequent intervals.

When lunch came, I instinctively headed for the cafeteria – the place where I usually met with my two friends before we went outside if we had lunches from home. I didn't today, because of my rush out the door that morning, so I grabbed a tray and waited to be served. After a few minutes of waiting, slop was dolloped onto my plate by one of the lunch ladies and I grabbed a carton of milk because there was nothing else left.

Glancing round the room, I searched for the table where Sam and Tucker decided to sit at today. They were at the back of the cafeteria, I found, almost concealed by the mass of people on the tables in front. They were huddled over together, looking and laughing at something on Tucker's PDA. As I navigated my way through the crowd, I saw they too both had lunches from school. A bright smile was on Sam's face as she laughed and I bit my lip, wondering why I was so glad to see her happy. I decided then that I needed to see what they were watching, so I picked up speed as I slided in between benches.

"Fen-trash!"

I resisted against the urge to groan out loud. What was this, the hundredth time today? I couldn't turn round because then he'd see the annoyed expression on my face, which would only provoke him more.

Something wet and sloppy hit the back of my neck, and I looked down at my own lunch, realising with a shudder that it was the same thing. It went inside my shirt and I instinctively rolled my shoulders forward, trying to get most of it off my clothes and onto my skin so I could turn my back intangible and have it slide off, while making it look like it simply hadn't stuck. It did, and the sound it made when it hit the floor wasn't unlike the sound you get when you step in a huge puddle of mud. Ew. Gross.

Dash, having seen nothing but his plan to make me covered in slop fail miserably greeted me with a wide-open jaw as I swivelled to face him. Seeing me look, he quickly adjusted his posture to match mine. I grinned, confidence radiating through me as I rolled my eyes sarcastically and shrugged.

"Shame, Dash," I called to him, "looks like the food is so cruddy today you can't even bully people with it."

"Shut up!" was the only reply his tiny brain could allow to shout back, following by the blonde jock shoving his hand into his food again and pulling out another lump. He lifted his arm to throw it and launched, but I could see this one coming. It was too quick to dodge. As it was about to collide with my face, for a flicker of a second, I managed to turn my head intangible. Fast enough to have it go right through me, but not for long enough for anyone to properly see. Suddenly the thought occurred to me as it splattered behind me on the floor that I could have not done it for long enough and I shuddered, picturing that slop in my brain. I'd have to be careful.

At least I was getting the hang of this.

Well, halfway at least.

I knew I could use my… _ghost powers_… at will, but they also seemed to have a mind of their own and the frequency of them acting up without my permission hadn't lessened. The tray I was holding fell through my hands and I concentrated on getting them back to normal, ignoring the half-amused-half-confused looks from the crowd.

"Nice one," I heard Dash say.

I scooped up some of the food and threw it back on a whim and it hit him at point-blank range, splattering on his face.

"Yeah, well, at least I can _aim._"

"You shut your mouth Fenton," his teeth were gritted as he wiped the sludge from around his eyes, glaring furiously at me, "or you better, watch out, 'cause I-"

Someone screamed.

Everyone jumped, most glancing around in various directions to see where it was coming from. Not a single person was sitting down now – we were all on out feet as the sound of glass smashing shattered the worried murmurings of the cafeteria.

Something large and heavy chose that moment to crash through the closest wall. Dust was propelled in all directions and I darted under one of the tables, letting out a surprised gasp as my temperature dropped even further than its usual beyond-hypothermic. The chill ran directly from the centre of my body upwards, and I could vaguely make out my breath in the clouds of debris, and it wasn't for the fact I was in danger, I probably would have considered it more. I could see everyone's feet, but Dash had seemed to have disappeared. Sam and Tucker, too, although I never _really_ was with them in the first place. People were running everywhere and I heard more screams before half of the lights flickered out, leaving me in semi-darkness. It was like I was the only one standing still. It just _all happened at once._

Then, nothing.

This would be the part in the movies where you're left on your own, with maybe one or two other people cowering in various spots around the room and music's playing that you don't focus on but you would miss if it was there. You'd have a silent part where you just _breathe_ and stay quiet for a moment, wondering what hit you. A bomb attack? A gang?

It would also be the bit where, after a few moments of tension increase where you dramatically hear footsteps coming towards you and your breath hitches in your throat, then it turns out to be just one of your friends looking for you and then you team up and work out a plan.

But what I heard wasn't footsteps. I didn't hear anything at all apart from the last few pieces of broken wall falling to settle on the floor and the sound of my own breathing. My elbows and knees were grazing from where I was putting so much pressure on them to turn myself round, my back rubbing uncomfortably on the gross gum stuck on the underside of the bench, although I supposed that this was not the time to be worrying about other student's disgusting habits. I clenched my hands into fists, ducking my head lower and angling it upwards to get a better look. I could feel the strain in my eyes as they travelled upwards as far as they could go.

Something was _floating_. I mean, _actually floating_.

Sure, that happens in movies quite a lot. But this was real life. I was seeing this…thing, a few feet away from me and _glowing_. It lit up its own features in the dim light, putting sharp teeth and pointed ears into overexposure – a sort of feral/human-looking thing. Anymore description would have been harder to get out of me at that point because I actually had no idea what it was.

Its positioning: it had its back to me, its slightly furry shoulders hunched over a little, looking at an angle over to the other side of the room. Its eyes were bright red and its tiny black pupils were fixated on something that I had to crane my neck ground the bench leg to see without being spotted myself. There was one of the nerds sitting right in its line of sight, frozen out of fear and eyes as wide as saucers. I subtly made an attempt at signalling to him, trying to tell the guy just to _leave_.

Its breath was coming out as low growls while I lay there, torn between helping out the other boy, running for my life or working out what that thing actually was. I shuffled forward as quietly as I could, trying to get a closer look.

I let my body fade from view, ensuring my clothes went with it. Edging forward, I gradually out from under the bench and saw the real state of the cafeteria. The walls (apart from the large hole on the left side of the furthest one), appeared to be perfectly intact. But everything else looked like it had been put through an earthquake. Tables were turned over, pieces of food seemed to be everywhere. More than one part of the floor had dents in from impact force. I blinked, mouth opening in utter shock as I looked to see if anyone else apart from me and the other guy still in the devastated room. Only a few people remained; no one I knew. it appeared that they – like me – had had a little bit of common sense and were actually _hiding_, as best they could. Unlike the nerd who was so obviously out in the open I would have slapped him in the face if it wasn't for the fact our lives were currently being threatened by a floating carnivore. One of the kids also had a camera phone on them; they were sticking it out of the gap between two broken chairs they were crouched behind. Thankfully, it was aiming at the creature, not me. Hopefully my being ghostly wasn't now caught on film, although that was the least of my worries.

As I passed the wolf-man, my angle of view slowly changed and I saw him more from the front, more of his face. It was gnarled and ugly, twisted like tree bark that half frightened me and half made me want to gag. It seemed to be drooling green saliva, which was really gross. However, I was still drawn to the fact the it wasn't actually touching the floor, and I noticed how his body sort of stopped where its 'hips' should have been and morphed into a wispy tail in the place of its legs. Its skin and fur was a sickly green colour; the only thing that wasn't was its eyes. Overall, its figure came across to me as some sort of perhaps a ghostly-looking merman with no fins and extra wiry fur.

…Ghostly… Was that_ thing_… some sort of… ghost?

Like me?

My breath hitched as I jerked at the thought, shuffling back as it turned away from its focus for a second. Crud, it probably heard me…

It grunted. I froze, invisibly in a low crouch, my arms splayed out to keep my balance. It seemed to be staring right at me, but I knew I was invisible despite the fact that I was really looking it in the eyes. I held its gaze for a few more agonisingly slow moments, then it slowly turned away, putting his focus back on the other guy. It was starting to edge forward to him, which I took as my cue to just do _something_.

Still invisible, I grabbed a chunk of debris (wincing a little at the sludge that seeped onto my hands) and threw it at him.

A deep, piercing howl echoed through the school as its red eyes turned to find the source of its 'attacker', only to see nothing but empty space and a broken bench. I had fled to the right, breathing heavily after the risky strategy. Considering the fact that it was looking practically straight at me just before, I knew it was stupid, but yet probably the only way to get him away from the other boy. Who had, thankfully, now gained some sense and went to either take his chances to run away or hide.

With him out of the way, I turned my attention back towards the 'ghost', who was snarling raggedly, the claws on its fingers flexing in and out as it floated around in a small circle. At one point, it actually turned an object other than itself intangible, which perked my curiosity above my fear for a few seconds. I was about to pick up something else to throw, but the question to myself as to why I was even doing this finally appeared. Had it been in the past that this had happened, I knew that I wouldn't have thought twice about running away and leaving someone else to deal with the problem. But this was _now_ and it just felt _different._ And, despite this fact that I felt I needed to do something about this carnivorous floating werewolf, it was obvious that there was barely anything I could do besides providing distractions. I hadn't had them for very long, but it was obvious these powers weren't exactly the offensive kind; more for defence.

Could you even kill a ghost? They were already dead, weren't they? So, even if I could attack it, I couldn't destroy it. If only my parents were…

Did it really take me that long to figure out? I groaned to myself in frustration. No, it wasn't like I'd let them know about the existence of this ghost; I'd use the weapon they'd made me keep in my locker. I slid backwards, feeling my back hit the wall as I shuffled along. My eyes remained on the creature the entire time, and by now it was becoming obvious that he was beginning to sense me. It wasn't long before his nose (which was likely a very good one, being a dog and all), picked up my scent, at least.

I needed to deal with this without letting Mum and Dad in on anything, though. As soon as they discovered that ghosts were actually real, that would just lead them closer to me and my new secret. Of course, that would entirely depend on what other people would say, too. I could only hope that whoever was left in the cafeteria would not start believing that the big floating thing was actually dead, and instead mistake it for some sort of large animal. It sort of was that, anyway…

I had to move fast; I could leave them all alone with thing for long. My locker thankfully wasn't too far from here, and my intangibility assisted me in getting there much faster by enabling me to go through walls. I saw no one else, but I could hear large amounts of people talking, so I assumed that the rest of the kids in the cafeteria and school had all gathered outside somewhere.

All around my locker, on the others' edges, were evidence of scratched paint where mine's door had to be removed and replaced on a regular basis. It made me grin for a moment amidst everything that I was slowly realising more and more advantages to my ghost half. I wouldn't have to wait for ages for the grumpy janitor to rescue me from the dark confines of inside that thing anymore…

I didn't even bother with the combination; no one was watching, so I shoved my hand right through the door and felt around inside towards the back for the gun. My hand found metal and, experimentally, I tried challenging that weird cold and glowy energy _into _it. I bit my lip, and then something seemed to click in my senses.

Before I knew it, the weapon was out and steady in my hands, bouncing up and down in my light grip as I jogged down the corridor. My footsteps were almost as quiet as the silence that surrounded me, so much so that they didn't even echo. I felt myself automatically travel slower, ears alert for any distressing sound ahead. My finger was constantly tapping the trigger.

It might sound like a stupid idea to be keeping a ghost-destroying gun in your locker, but that was definitely not Mum and Dad's view on it. They were willing to put me in the line of detention fire to keep me 'safe'. They'd even snuck it into school for me, despite my extremely obvious protests. I was lucky that no one had actually found it – someone could have easily removed the fake wall it lay behind. You can guess my first thoughts about having it there; right up until the accident I tried most days no one was walking home with me (which was a lot) to build up enough confidence to sneak it back into the house. But my fear of being seen, unsurprisingly, had gotten in the way every time I made an attempt. To me, that gun had practically been one of the most awkward, most boring and most unnecessary things that was involved in my entire existence. Baring in mind it hadn't been long since the beginning of the year.

I would probably be happy to kiss it now.

(Maybe not).

I was holding it close to my chest, feeling my heart pound against it as the sudden rush of adrenalin stopped for a moment, and the increased rapidly when I realised, again, how close I was. Instinctively, I flashed invisible (it still shocked me how natural this was), and pressed my back against the wall outside the cafeteria. Its low growl was easy to make out, and it definitely sounded more irritated than before. Its prey had escaped; it was frustrated. It was on edge, ready to attack the second it sensed anything. I gulped. What if it had already got the others?

The gun slipped through my hands, crashing to the floor in a much louder fashion than I would have like.

My mouth hung open for a second as it clattered, my expression forming into a wince in this sort of slow motion way - that ended with the _very_ obvious sound of the ghost wolf snarling and crashing its way through rubble to get to me. I had my weapon back in my hands in record time, praying it wouldn't fall again. I was shaking, my teeth were gritted (out of fear or anger, I didn't know), my eyes were narrowed to slits.

Its face appeared in front of me, its body coming through the wall and forgetting to be intangible at some points where its fur scraped against the plaster. I shot, jumping back and trying to look like a threat. My weapon was large for a gun, most likely to store all the extra ghost technology (was it even tested?), and therefore not meant for running around with all over the place. It should have had my frail arms aching and begging for mercy, yet I could be just as agile as if my hands were free.

Super strength, too?

Ok, I was a terrible aimer. I realised this after my first five shots completely missed, exploding and blowing up innocent lockers and doors. There was a few times where I got close, but that only made it roar louder, sickly green saliva flying everywhere as it opened and closed its mouth and making attempts to tear my face off with its teeth. There was barely time for me to rest in between dodges and shots.

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't long until I found myself pressed against a large cupboard, the thing inches away from my face. Trying still not to show how afraid I was, I stared right back into its eyes and buried the gun in its chest. It just growled and dugs its claws into the wall beside further, pinning against the wood to the point I thought my back might…

A cocky smirk tugging at my mouth.

It didn't know what the gun really _was_.

I fired, there was no chance of missing. There was a huge howl of pain and the ghost collapsed in on itself, falling to the floor as I saw smoke rising from its back. The damage had gone right through.

I went onto my knees myself, watching with a strange type of awe as its whole body just began to melt away, everything turning green (ectoplasm?) and running along the cracks in the floor.

My eyes were as wide as they could possible go, staring at nothing now. My lips were parted slightly, and my upper body moved up and down in time with my breathing, hands limp by side while I just did _nothing_. It was like when you saw a small animal freeze in its path, except I knew I was clear of danger and the look on my face was more of a broken sort of smile, head tilting to the side and the gun brushing against my knee.

I had just… that thing was…

I had really just…

I…

I screamed.

* * *

_You're probably wondering why Danny's first ghost fight was against such a 'powerful' one. Well, isn't it logical that the strongest ones would get through the portal door first? I'm sure there'd be a large ghostly crowd gathered on the other side of that door and the toughest ones get through first..._

_I am also /very/ much considering bumping up the rating. Opinions?_

_See you soon!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Back! Back! Back! Yay! On a special three-update day, for those that are in the DGM or the [K] fandom~ exams were tough, but all the results I've gotten back are A*, so I think taking time off from FF and revising did me good~_

_The rating has not moved to T __**yet**_**. **_If it's ok, I want your opinion on this chapter and the rating first, just to check? C:_

_**PhantomBowtie: **__You don't have to look forward anymore! Here it is :)_

_**Nihil Asara: **__Thanks for the input and the review!_

_**Lefty:**__ I suppose… but that'd be so boring! I like it better this way because I can do more with it and make Danny more afraid…_

_**Weirdo:**__ I don't think I've said this, but __**before 'Mystery Meat' begins, there will be **__**no**__** ghosts from the show besides Danny. This is because Danny first meets them in the actual show, **__**not**__** before. And also, I don't think I'll be putting any DannyXAny Ghost pairing in because there is barely any hint of it in canon… DxV is more plausible, or maybe even DxP…**_

_**Trackjunkie8: **__Um, I did say that it was going to be a while before I was going to update, but if you're unsure __**read my profile for the next update date. It will always be there and change accordingly.**__ And he fully 'goes ghost' very, very soon!_

_**InfiniteReader: **__It's not soon, but here it is anyway!_

_**DB-KT: **__I think I might… tell me what you think again after this? I'm still so unsure because some are saying it should be fine like this :/_

_**sora kazega: **__Yeah, throughout the whole thing my brain was telling me the same thing… but I just needed to somehow give poor Danny facts. He was so lost, bless him. And it's hard any other way because I'll spend ten chapters writing about his musings and no one wants that…_

_**Crystalzap: **__You're not supposed to! That ghost was an OC, and probably won't be appearing again unless I get a high demand for it (which I won't)._

_**V.I.Y.H: **__Hello! :D here's more for ya~~~_

_**DarkFoxKit: **__He'll be fighting the box ghost when canon allows him to fighting the box ghost c:_

_**Kiomori: **__I'm glad so many people share this opinion! I thought Danny not going ghost here in this fight would get me a lot of negative reviews :') and I've addressed the DNA issue ^^^_

_**Phantom Ice: **__Super cool… like your pen name? :D thanks for the review!_

_**The Virus: **__I've taken so long, I must be infected… oh dear…_

_**Thephantomartist: **__This wasn't soon, sorry :'(_

_**Yin and Yang: **__Nah, no ghostie pairings… sorry D: and here's your update!_

_**AustinGamer117: **__Addressed this ^^^ thanks for your input, though!_

_**Secret, Chapter 6**_

* * *

It was a weird sense of déjà vu to me after that; the actual waking up from being unconscious process didn't take very long because of Jazz's incessant shaking of my shoulders. She was being far less gentle than after my accident when she was just repeating my name. No, this was more like being woken up by an earthquake.

"Danny!"

I groaned, opening my eyes and making a weak attempt at pushing her off me. Breathless, she realised I was no longer passed out and pulled me up into a sitting position. I felt blood rush to my head and my vision clouded for a moment as I tried to take in my current surroundings in between my sister's cries of relief.

The hall – I was in the same place I was before when I…

I jerked, clenching my fists. My head swung from side to side while I looked around desperately. I ignored a sudden pain in my leg and tried to stand up, only to be forcefully pushed down again.

"Try to stay still, little brother," Jazz said, "if you need to get anywhere, I'll find someone that can carry you, ok?"

"Then why were you so rough on me?" came my small attempt at an argument. My voice was completely hoarse; I felt I could barely get a sound out.

"They're clearing away all the rubble… there was a lot on the lower half of your body. I think you've damaged your leg in some way, but I can't see any fresh blood."

I started. She's seen my blood! Did she…? Glancing down, I scanned over my leg and saw the left side of my jeans covered in red. Even though I could tell the difference pretty easily considering it was my own blood, there seemed to be less of a shining quality – enough so that I could probably pass it off for the type of lighting.

"What were you in here for?" she asked me, not realising what I was doing, "everyone was evacuating and when Sam and Tucker told me you weren't with them…" Jazz made a semi-dramatic sound halfway between an ungraceful snort and a hiccup, "…I really thought you were dead. The wolf that got in was deadly itself, but when we found it, it had a massive hold through its stomach. That probably happened before it got to y-"

"Wolf?" I questioned, feeling my face pale.

"…Yes, wolf. It was quite big, but like I said, it's not alive anymore."

"But, I…" I trailed off.

Wasn't that 'wolf' she was talking about the ghost? But that was a _ghost_; there was no way that ugly thing could have been mistaken for…

I felt myself shudder and I grabbed my arms in a fruitless attempt to stop shivering, switching between biting my lip and clenching my jaw.

Jazz instantly grabbed my shoulders again, much to my chagrin.

"Danny? Are you ok? What's wrong now?"

"I… I don't know, I…" my vision trailed to the spot in front of me, the spot where I _knew_ I had shot and killed that _creature_, before it had collapsed on my lap and I'd pushed it off of my legs, feeling the gore slip away onto my clothes and…

That place was perfectly clean. Nothing. Not even a little blemish, unlike the hall's sides, which were scattered with dust and debris.

"…Tell me," I began, tracing a finger along theunbelievably _clean_ surface in front of me, then up onto my knees where the only blood that was there was my own, "tell me… was I the only person here when you found me? Nothing… else… was here?"

"Of course not!" she suddenly had that sisterly edge to her voice that was treating me like I could have said something a little stupid, "that's why you took so long to find!"

"Right." I nodded slowly and took a deep breath, nudging off her grip and rolling my shoulders. Aches were starting to slowly flood back into my body from all the exertion earlier. Questions… I had even more of them now. There was no way fighting that monster could have possibly been a dream; I could still feel the gun at the ends of my fingertips, lost from my grip as I had fallen unconscious who knows how much earlier. Or at least, I could feel its gentle humming and vibration of power. What time was it? Why hadn't Jazz questioned me about the weapon? _Where was the ghost?_

My sister reached into her bag and pulled out a half-empty water bottle, holding it out me. I received it with both hands and a small "thank you", only…

…There wasn't a weapon, was there? There wasn't a gun, it was only just myself. Or maybe there was…

I rushed to look down at my side. It wasn't there, just like the ghost. But the buzz on my fingers had felt so _real_, I knew _something_ was there.

This whole accident was making me lose my mind. And it's not often that someone who is losing their mind can actually admit to losing it, which meant I was losing it even more than I should be.

Was I still shaking?

Why was I still asking questions? It was stupid and making my head hurt, but I knew I just had to find answers. Although it wasn't like Jazz could give me any answers, nor the internet, nor my parents. It was just me that knew about this problem and now I supposed in a way I was paying for it, but then there were so many other downsides to them knowing about my being a half-ghost that I knew I simply _couldn't_ tell them, lest I'd want to experience said downsides. With all that in mind (and I had no idea about how my brain was possibly processing this information while trying to deal with the weird sense of depersonalisation I was getting with the gun and the ghost), my subconscious seemed to click and come up with something that I might actually be able to get answers from. I wanted to smack myself now – it was so utterly _obvious_. To find something you've lost, you start at the beginning, from where you'd last seen it. To read a book, you start at the beginning. To do an exam paper, you start at the beginning.

To find out what was up with your weird half-dead body, you start at the beginning. And that beginning was the portal.

* * *

It seemed that I was on hiatus from going to school. Again. Although that was a relief in itself, and it was, this time, _all_ not my fault. Most of the rubble had been removed easily – it was locker doors and classroom doors that had been replaced within the day from donations in town, but the cafeteria had to have a whole wall practically rebuilt, which would clearly take a much longer time than that. And kids needed lunch while at school, I guess. Not to mention all the adults were paranoid about something coming back and getting 'revenge' for the wolf (which, in my vision, didn't seem impossible). The second factor regarding my being-at-home-ness was my leg, and I had come to the conclusion that it was indeedbroken, but healing extremely fast. As in, so fast I could now safely walk and run on it without experiencing extreme pain. Most likely another ghostly side-effect, and also the reason why I had to _pretend_ that I couldn't move at all. It had literally only been three days since that ghost got in, or since when I think a ghost got in, and I was just looking for a time when everyone apart from me was out the house so I could get myself down into my parents' lab and check out the portal.

I think it was safe to say that I'd had some kind of mental breakdown, and I'd surprised myself as I'd sort of diagnosed it and healed parts of it completely. I knew it was from the pressure of my accident, which was easy to accept, but the ghost's and gun's possible lack of existing was still bothering me and it was eating up my thoughts in all the free thinking time I had. However, I was trying this thing where I knew I needed to stay positive mentally and not bury myself in worry because worry never helps anyone and I think that this time in life was when I needed to most help… even if I could only help myself, anyway.

Jazz didn't want to miss any of her learning time at all because she had exams coming up and important things to study for (so did I, but with everything else going on, I couldn't care less), so she had decided to trundle down to Amity Park's fair-sized library for the day, which left me alone in FentonWorks with Mum and Dad. That was awkward of course, but we were all making attempts to keep morale up and this time I could almost feel my parents' relief that the damage I'd got wasn't from an invention of their own design… or at least I thought it wasn't.

If the wolf-ghost had existed, the only place it could have possibly come from was from inside the ghost portal (otherwise, if it had had any other entrance to our world it would have appeared already). And yes, it was working now. Seems that my accident miraculously just 'switched it on' according to Mum and Dad, when I knew deep down it was because it was practically asking for a live sacrifice to get it up and running. If the portal had consciousness, I would cast it as the villain in all of this, releasing lots of smaller villains into the human world to destroy people. So far, it hadn't succeeded, but there was no telling that it might, and that was yet another thing that was making me uncomfortable. The 'Ghost Zone' existed – there was no denying it. It was only a question whether a ghost had actually appeared from it yet or not.

"Danny," I heard my mother's voice from behind and turned my head to glance over the sofa. She was standing next to Dad and they were both putting on coats.

"What is it?" I paused for a second in my channel surfing and made an attempt at not moving my leg (to bend it would make my current awkward position a lot more comfortable).

"We're going out to the store to buy things for stuff for dinner for the next few days. Will you be ok on your own, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I will."

She gave a soft smile which my dad tried to mimic, and I beamed back because I knew they were trying their best.

"We'll only be a couple of hours," she assured me as she reached for the door handle.

I was literally jittering up and down with the urgency for them to just _leave _(in a totally not rude, loving way), "sure. Bye."

I was also trying my best to stay casual and calm, and I even remained still until I heard the Fenton Family RV start up before practically jumping of my seat.

It was surprising, really, I realised as I made my way through the kitchen and down the laboratory stairs, how excited I actually was. I had noticed it building up all night and for most of the morning, but alongside it the curiosity as to why I was so hyped to go back and see the thing that stripped _half of my humanity_ from me. A lot of cliché stuff, but… it was like I was drawn to it somehow, which could only come down to maybe a sort of ghost magnetism. It was the Ghost Zone, after all, and I was (at least partly) a ghost.

The room had a lot less echoes than I remembered, and it didn't take me long to see why. Most of the hollow sound had come from that gaping hole in the wall that was the Fenton Portal, but now I turned into the room to see a huge metal door built over it, covered with bright yellow and black stripes. The lab in general came across as a lot cleaner, too. That wasn't surprising, though; Mum and Dad had spent enough time down here in the past few weeks, I'd be concerned if they hadn't have been tidying up and organising things a little. Despite my injuries from it, I knew that the portal was a big confidence builder and a large stage in their researching career. It was the first 'big' thing they'd invented that had actually _worked._ I was genuinely really happy for them.

The homemade cast was slightly difficult to walk around in. It was all bumpy in places and made me look like I had a limp because it made my left leg longer than my right with its thickness. I stumbled around on my way, but eventually came face to face with the portal's control panel, almost tripping and falling face first onto it before I decided that this thing had to just come _off_. It took some effort, but I leant against the wall and managed to slide out of it, wiggling my toes to make it a little looser as it fell free. Then I got that horrible clammy feeling you get when your limb hasn't seen the light of day for a while and I squirmed around uncomfortably for a moment before turning once again back to my parents' invention.

It was giving off a soft hum like a baseline, almost musical, as it gently rattled on. I ran my fingers over a few of the buttons whilst being careful not to go ahead and press any (we all know where that got me last time), but allowing myself to freely explore it. There was one, though, that actually found that I just _couldn't_ resist pressing…

'OPEN'.

And it did.

I stood back, positioning myself more in front of the actual entrance itself as the whirrs grew louder, followed by lots of clicks, whistles and cranks as cogs worked and turned inside. They pulled open the huge doors, splitting the yellow and black down the middle and revealing a new colour underneath.

It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

Green – there were so many shades of green_._ All swirling, shimmering and dancing around each other, mixing and occasionally growing darker or lighter. I could see nothing but an endless depth of that, and the whole room was quickly bathed in a soft acid and lime hue. My mouth was open, I could tell, and I was subconsciously sliding forward, reaching an arm out to touch it.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen. What would the surface feel like? Would it be gooey and thick honey-type material, or the complete opposite and just feel like I was brushing my hand through air? And the temperature – I could feel it giving off frequent pulsations of cool air, but how cold would it be when it came into contact with my skin? As cold as me, or more?

It was like gliding my hand through cool water, but water that was fed with a constant current of electricity. I felt it tingle around my hand, passing through and up my arms. That part was warm and I couldn't resist smiling. Somehow, I realised that if anyone else had tried to do this without any protection, they'd be fried in an instant. But this machine sort of had some kind of _connection_ to me – it created me to be what I was now. You could say it was a part of me, in a way. I was special. And that made me feel so confident and so happy and so _wanted_. I could do things that other people couldn't, even if I didn't really know exactly what they were. I was vibrant with some otherworldly (otherdimensionally?) power I had been given, yet I was unable to think about what I could do with it.

I let my body become intangible, curious to see if there would be any change in the portal, but there was nothing except its spirited and acquiescent hum. It increased in its noise-making a little, though, responding positively to its own power that was now within another host.

Suddenly, the electricity it was sending increased further and sharper and I involuntarily jerked back, clutching my arm. It didn't hurt… it was just… surprising. I eyed it with inquisitiveness. "What's wrong?" I almost wanted to ask, but it wouldn't speak back.

An uncomfortable atmosphere was building, and I instinctively reached for the button to close the door, stretching out my fingers to…

"You," a husky voice sounded, and I realised with shock it was coming from inside, "what are _you_? You don't look like…"

"M-me?" I replied after he spoke, forgetting about the button when I saw a shadow of a figure appear and then slowly step through.

It was a man, that so far was obvious because of his voice and appearance, but there was something just… wrong… about his features. His skin was stark white all over and his face resembled a skull with working green eyes and a mouth closed without teeth showing. His hair matched this colour, if not a few shades darker, and was long – shoulder length and gelled back. He was wearing a crimson suit and hat and his shoes were a shiny black.

"Yes," he answered, "_you._"

I knew what he was; he was a ghost. Duh.

"I'm… Danny," was all I could think of to say, even though I knew it was extremely stupid.

"Not your name, you fool."

"Like, what… species?"

"If you require us to call it that."

Ok, he didn't seem like much trouble despite his very overpowering demeanour. He wasn't mindlessly attacking like the wolf-ghost-I-though-existed. He wasn't acting on instinct – he was _speaking_, for crying out loud. I guessed that if he really wanted to hurt me, he would have by now.

"I'm… human, I think…"

"You think?"

I nodded.

A look of realisation appeared on his face, which, for some reason, looked really like it never usually did.

"You're the child that got caught in the activation of this strange transportary device, are you not?"

I couldn't judge him – it was way too difficult. From my miniscule knowledge of ghosts (and by that, I'd only seen a maximum of two that didn't include myself), I drew the conclusion that more human-looking ghosts were capable of acting like humans, or at least similarly anyway. His expression was hidden; I couldn't decide on what his motive was. Would he be like other scientists on Earth would be – willing to dissect me? A ghost scientist? But he seemed like the kind of… person… who could easily tell if someone was lying, and, after my rather unconfident display of the past minute or so, coming out with an assured and bold 'no' would be obvious.

So I had to tell the truth.

"…Yes," I said, after a long moment of hesitation.

There was a extended and extremely uncomfortable silence before he began pacing, his feet a few inches off the floor whilst he tried to make himself look taller. It wasn't amazing that I remained still during this, watching him carefully whilst edging closer to the 'CLOSE' button. If I could just him get to move back a little, back into the portal, then I could…

The ghost paused, blinked, and angled his shoulders and head towards me. I was resisting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut and run away, but what good would that do anyone? It'll be quite easy to kill the rest of me off whether I moved or not.

"This is… very interesting," his hands rested on his chin, covered with black gloves that gave off the same appearance as leather would, "I could use this information, although I mustn't let my brother get his hands on you… we all know what would happen if you ended up there, wouldn't we?"

"Um… yes?"

I wanted to scream. One minute, he was almost inquisitive, then rude, and now really, _really _threatening. I decided then and there that all ghosts were weird, which was only backed up on my personal view of myself anyway. Instead, I swallowed whatever noise that would have come out and continued to look straight at him, not wanting to lose his attention for a second. Had he seen all the weapons on this lab? Or was he like the other and didn't know what a gun was? I was hoping the latter, but it was like he was clever enough to work out that one would receive some damage from one anyway… no; the only option was to get him back into the Ghost Zone and keep him there.

_This is insane_, I thought, _this whole thing, this whole _life_, is completely and utterly insane._

Did proper ghosts breathe? Because he just took in a big puff of air, rested his hands on his hips and whistled. The portal seemed to be further away from him than before and it was gradually dawning on me that that plan would never work anyway. What was I supposed to do – a "hey, you're a really swell ghost and all, but could you just, you know, go away and never come back?" most likely wouldn't go down so well with this guy. There was a stack of anti-ghost weapons on a shelf nearby, I forced myself to note despite my hesitations.

He must have caught the line of my sight the second I looked away from him, and, of course, his gaze fell straight onto the guns.

"Is that what's going through your mind right now, boy?" he half-wondered out loud, "you want to fight me? And not even with your powers, but with old _guns_?"

So he _did_ know what they were. Crud.

"No way!" It came out before I could even process what I was saying, "I was looking around the room and stuff… I don't get down here often."

"Really?"

"…Yeah."

He began walking (floating) towards me and I responded by stepping back, my eyes widening when I saw the area around his hands become bathed in a green glow – not a colour much dissimilar to that of the portal – that brought out the shape of the bones inside his gloves. His muscles were tensed around them, his fingers stiffened as they began to spark with the same ghostly electricity I had felt earlier. But it gave off a more diluted feel; however strong this man was (certainly more than the wolf ghost), the portal was stronger. And I got my powers _from_ the portal, not by… the other way ghosts get their powers, whatever that is. Did that make me stronger? All I could do was basically defend myself and hide! I was in the same situation as I was before, cornered with nothing I could use as an offensive without having to run for it.

The ghost pushed me against the wall just by the panel and I let out a terribly innocent-sounding squeak, and feeling my side digging into the corner. It caused me to whistle with pain as I felt the skin break. So, in the end, he _did_ want to harm me, whether it was to kill me or not. And now the guns were well over an arm's length away from my reach. My intangibility… wasn't working. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring about that glowing, blue-green and untouchable existence. My body remained solid. One of the ghost's feet found the leg cast and kicked it away with gritted teeth and a grin, automatically inducing a whimper from me as I was once again pushed further into a wall. If I ever got out of this, I quickly decided that walls would be my weakness.

There was that shiver again, right up from the centre of my chest and out of my mouth and appearing as pale blue air. Where did I recognise that from?

Yet the cold remained, colder than usual. It was incessant. It pulsed and twisted and throbbed and warped like melting ice stuck in a wound inside me and I bit my lip, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand.

But it wouldn't go. My toes curled and my nails pushed into the palms of my hands. Pressure built up inside my throat and I wanted to make a sound now, I wanted to scream and to fall back down into that mental state I was in before because it would hide me from the ghost and Jazz would find me and I'll just recover again and wake up with my sister protecting me and my parents-

Doesn't the world 'fade to black' when you fall unconscious? Why… was it white?

* * *

_I really think I made Danny lose it… I really like writing his 'rambling' paragraphs, where he goes off onto tangents that aren't important. No idea why… perhaps it's because I do that. I've also really wanted to explore his 'relationship' with the portal. It was something that always interested me, but again I'm not sure why. I felt it wasn't really touched on in the show… meh. See you next week! :D_


	7. Chapter 7

_Time for chapter seven! Wow! I'm so glad I've come this far already – I've gotten my first C2 everyone! *trumpet fanfare* thanks very much, yapook, for archiving Secret into 'revelations'~~~ 3_

_**SeeSea17: **__What the… thanks for REVIEWING! :D_

_**The Virus: **__ That's only logical I guess. If you infect me no one will get to read new chapters! I'm planning on sticking to canon in the terms of when Jazz finds out, but I think she'll have a much larger role since Sam and Tucker aren't with Danny to help. __**Canon material with obvious twists should begin around chapter 10.**_

_**Crystalzap: **__He can't blast until 'What You Want'! He can't! Oh dear D:_

_**Yin and Yang:**__ No, Paulina was only a speculation. Of course he'll have crush, though. You two are awesome for reviewing!_

_**V.I.Y.H: **__Here you are, nice and soon~_

_**DarkFoxKit: **__Of course Danny's scared, yes, but I still really wanted him to fight in this chapter, which is what I've done as you'll see. He gets rather overconfident then it all overwhelms him at the end, bless him._

_**sora kazega: **__Thank you! And, hopefully, I have spun this chapter well. __**This was definitely the most difficult to write so far – I'm rather worried, actually.**_

_**DB-KT: **__Woah, I suppose that's what happens when you're writing in first person and that person has no one to talk about it to XD Oh gosh, I've forgotten, too. Oopsie…_

_**CrazyCoffeeKat: **__And what kind of plot bunnies would they be? I would love to read some of my reviewers fics some time~~ :D_

_**Sarahbear56:**__ Yay! I'm glad c:_

_**Weirdo: **__I completely understand your strong feelings. I think the pairing will indeed be DxV, at least, at first… *dramatic stare*_

_**Phantom Ice: **__Ah! Yes, it hasn't been two weeks yet, so it is still a week! :D *wary look* And, yep, that's all this chapter :)_

_**Secret, Chapter Seven**_

* * *

Breathing is a natural thing. You don't think about doing it, and when you suddenly become aware that you are, you probably panic a little and spend the next few minutes wondering how you'll ever get the action to become subconscious again. Sometimes your thoughts fall downwards and then you'll freak out and struggle to get to sleep because all you can think of is _inhale, exhale. _You wonder what will happen if you stop, but you can never stop breathing just because you want to. Your body will force you to pull air into your lungs eventually and begin the process of respiration. Much like the fact that you are perfectly capable of biting through your finger like it's a measly carrot, but your brain forbids it. It's wrong. You should _always_ be breathing, _always_ be keeping your body going.

Why, then, wasn't I?

The blankness fell away from my eyes and disappeared from my vision, leaving my sight as something _different_. Different in a way I couldn't explain. The ghost's skull-like face was still dangerously close to mine, sneering. The angles of light seemed to have changed. His features were more lit up, the shadows were now at the sides of his cheekbones, albeit very faintly because of his ethereal glow.

I didn't have time to register this as much as I should have, though; there were many other things happening at this moment for me to worry about. His facial expression was slowly changing into one of confusion, and then to understanding. Finally, it settled on a cocky grin as he pulled away and I clenched my fists, mirroring it.

I could hear the portal behind me humming wildly as I took a step forward. It felt like someone had poured freezing water onto my body, except the sharp cold didn't hurt. It didn't make my muscles seize up, it didn't set me off shivering. There was no subconscious reaction of attempting to warm up at all. It was just stimulating and energising and like I'd jumped into a pool full of icy caffeine and opened my mouth to let it flood inside. My being was thriving with pure power, and I would have gasped as I looked the other ghost in the eye if it wasn't for the fact that I wasn't breathing.

When people in books say that they stood there, completely still, they don't really mean it in the sense that they are not moving at all. That would be impossible – their chest would continue expanding and lowering at a steady pace. They would, if they were in my situation, be releasing shaky breaths. Their body would be shuddering up and down, limbs twitching, blinking as their eyes needed rest. All subconscious things. Things that would be virtually impossible to stop.

But I was perfectly still – my mouth remained closed. I had no need to take a breath and it felt like I wouldn't need to for a long while. Glancing down, I took in as much of my appearance as I could from that angle.

It was the haz-mat suit I had been wearing on the day of the accident, except the colours had inverted. It was black with accented white parts now, although it appeared as a more silvery tone because of the faint aura surrounding me. I was _glowing_. The hair that had fallen in front of my face was a stark, pure white, like all the colour had just been washed away and left behind a blank canvas.

"So, it's true?" the skull-ghost's voice was low and his mouth barely moved as he spoke, trying to keep the smirk steady on his face. Behind that, though, I saw something else. Wariness was evident in his eyes, I noticed, and his shoulders and arms were tense. "It's true that that this is what the transportary device would do if a human being was caught in its activation? Would this work the other way round, I wonder, or, instead, increase a ghost's power?"

He went on, his reverberating voice going on with question after question as we stared at each other, neither of our gazes faltering. I could picture myself in this situation before the accident – standing up to this ghost as plain old, non-ghostified Danny Fenton. I could feel how hollow my chest was, the fast and irregular heartbeat that should have been there nowhere to be found. I couldn't feel throbbing in my head, or the sound of blood rushing in my ears. There was practically no warmth coming from me at all, just a small spark of fire at the centre of my chest. It was almost like I was _dead_…

…And that's what it was.

What the portal had done… it had partially killed me, ripped away half of my humanity and putting ghostly power in its place. It had done more than just let me go invisible or intangible – it had created this whole new form for me. A ghost one. A phantom copy of my human self.

_This is insane_, I found myself repeating the thought I had earlier, _this whole thing, this whole life, is completely and utterly insane._

But it _wasn't_ insane. It was how I was now and I wasn't prepared to risk it and try to change it. One load of that pain was enough. Part of me was dead, but I knew also how powerful that very same part was. Everything about this new form just oozed pure _potential_. I had no idea what I was truly capable of, and, wow, was I excited to find out.

This other ghost clearly already knew the type of things you would come to expect when being a ghost – and when he realised that I would soon begin the process of working out these answers he finally broke down his smug demeanour and flung himself forward, hands stretched out to attack.

I darted to the left, narrowly missing a large bowl of odd-looking liquid from the lab as I misjudged my new weight. My whole body felt like air, and I wondered apprehensively how gravity was keeping me down on the ground.

Something exceedingly bright shot towards my direction and my eyes widened when I saw that the laser-like light was coming from his hands. It hit the surface centimetres away from my face and I felt its burning heat before I saw the smoking, gaping whole it had made in the cabinet. Hopefully Mum and Dad would take a while to notice that, or mistake it for one of their own mishaps.

I wanted to yell something at him desperately, but, no matter how hard I tried, no words would come out of my mouth. There was no air to brush past my vocal chords and make them vibrate, and when I tried to get some into my lungs for that purpose, it felt unnecessary and wrong and almost like I was going to be sick. How did he do it? His body looked like it barely had skin or muscle! Gritting my teeth, I angrily stayed silent and jumped at him with a fist raised, aiming straight for his bleached face.

It found its target, and I felt something crack under my knuckles at the sheer force. It propelled him backwards and I kept on going with him, slamming back against the wall he had pressed me up against just a few moments earlier. Except now, our roles were reversed.

I pushed my left hand onto the top of his chest, just above his collarbone, to keep him steady. Already my strength was surprising me, and that same element was probably the only thing keeping me from not being beaten to a ghostly pulp. This ghost thought he was better – he had underestimated me. _I _had underestimated me. He was expecting me to act like a normal, weak and defenceless human and not like a ghost (well, I didn't really know how ghosts usually acted, but what I was doing seemed correct).

He still wasn't reacting when I punched him again, on the other side of his face and just below his left eye. I repeated it. The only command my brain was sending out to my limbs was that of pure instinct – get rid of the enemy before he gets rid of you. I barely had any control and, to be honest, I would rather not have much control because, underneath this new layer of energy and drive, I was absolutely _terrified_. Supressing a scream was easy because I physically wasn't capable of doing it anyway. I was sweating and could picture the thin sheet of liquid on my skin reflecting the light I was giving off.

I kicked him to the side of his stomach, and this was about the time when he started to give a response. His fist came up and collided with my ribs, pushing me off him but doing no more than that. Danny Fenton would have been painfully winded, the breath knocked completely out of him. There was no such reaction from me, now. Sure, it hurt, but it didn't seem to matter as strongly as my desire to win.

The other ghost stood up straight and then re-adopted a fighting stance. I was a little shaky at first, but I managed to find one too, head low and bouncing on the balls of my feet. Suddenly, he shot up in the air and I opened my mouth in a silent yelp of surprise before trying to copy him. Note: _trying_. I jumped around a little and definitely hung in the air for a longer period of time than usual, but gravity pulled me back again. It was going to take some practice to fly, and I didn't really have time for that practice.

He flew around to behind me and I turned my body to follow him until I was in between him and the portal, which was still buzzing loudly. He was coming towards me now and I saw him raise his right hand. Sparks formed around his fingers and gathered together in his gloved palm and I promptly realised he was going to fire another beam. I ducked, just in time, and it sailed above my head and into the portal. He launched more at varying levels of success – one hit my shoulder and I heard the sound of the hazmat suit fizzle away as the burn ate away at the first few layers of my skin – all while coming steadily closer. It was large a large run-up (fly-up?) and I quickly processed that if I could dodge the final blow at the right time…

He hurtled past me with a snarl and went into the green swirling mass face first. I didn't hesitate to react and threw myself at the control panel, smacking my hand down on the [CLOSE] button with more force than was needed. The light above the portal flashed red a few times, before the yellow and black doors came into view and slowly drowned out the colour behind it. I saw no more of the other ghost before it closed.

I hit my back against the lab wall voluntarily this time, sliding to the floor. There was no breathlessness involved – I wasn't panting with fatigue because I simply couldn't. I was just so _tired_. All I could think about was sleep, but my brain and body hadn't stopped bustling with adrenalin yet. The fight had been over too quickly, but I had learned so much. I let myself clench my toes and curl my arms around my knees, burying my face in between them. The texture of the haz-mat suit was smooth and comfortable, and coupled with the freshness of the cold my body was emitting, it made me want to fall asleep even more, and I resiliently remained there until I was granted my wish. It wouldn't be for long, after all, my parents would be back soon. They didn't know of the true existence of ghosts – imagine their surprise if they were to find one that looked like their own son in the corner of their laboratory.

My mouth automatically opened to mimic a yawn and I closed my eyes.

* * *

Going to sleep and waking up again is a natural thing. It's really hard to describe how you actually do it. How _do_ you fall asleep? Sure, you just lie there, but how do you actually _do_ it? The best way, I've heard, is to think of something, and let those thoughts slowly drift and turn into others until they spiral downwards into blackness and you begin to dream (but who remembers the beginning of a dream?). Once you've got that down, you need to wake up. But again, I ask the same question – how? You aren't conscious – you can't tell your body to get up and moving again. Things just kickstart themselves, usually at the right time of the morning if you didn't fall asleep to late or too exhausted. Sometimes, you get really scared of falling asleep. What if your body forgets, and you never wake up? That's awfully scary, isn't it? But, yet, you do it anyway. Like I said, it's _natural._

But have you ever had that feeling, the one you get when you wake up and you can't move? Sleep paralysis? You might be able to look around a little, but – for a while – your limbs are totally out of your control. That's pretty creepy.

My eyes re-opened the next time to see the living room ceiling, and the rest of me was frozen solid. There was a few strands of hair resting down my face and onto my nose, and I saw that it had reverted back to its original black colour. I was human again. My body had obviously struggled to fall asleep dead and wake up alive, so I let it sort itself out, enjoying the deep breaths of air flooding into my lungs. Someone had moved me here, but I couldn't be sure if they had seen me as a ghost. There was no use worrying about it though (even though I really was). People can't un-see things very easily.

The place where I had felt a small warm presence in my chest while I was a ghost had been replaced by a sharp cold, like there was a chunk of ice that refused to melt nestled between my heart and lungs. I failed to care. There was nothing about it that felt unnatural. You don't give your fingers weird looks, do you? They're a part of you; this was no different.

I slowly gained back the ability to move my limbs and the first thing I did with this was sit up, gathering the blanket that had been draped over me onto my legs. The cast had been refitted back on to it and it throbbed faintly, mostly from the tightness of which it had been done.

"Danny? You're awake!" it was my dad's voice coming from the kitchen. I turned my head to see him step into the room (after coming to the conclusion that he hadn't seen me as a ghost because he was acting way too happy), setting his bowl of ice-cream down on the coffee table. The spoon clinked and he gently tapped my feet, motioning for me to move a little bit so that he could also sit.

"You were asleep in the lab, son," a small frown was on his face, "why? What were you doing down there?"

"You said that the portal was working again. I… I wanted to see it, but I knew you wouldn't let me, so I went to look while you were out. I fell asleep… because moving around like that made me tired."

"So… you're not hurt?"

"Only the same as before, Dad. In fact, a tiny bit better."

"Why was your cast off?"

"Oh… it was awkward to walk around with."

"So you just took it off?" Mum interrupted, appearing and joining the conversation. Her voice held a hint of anger, but it was mostly concern.

"…Yeah. I'm really sorry… I just wanted to see."

Lying about all this was surprisingly easy, and I supposed it was because of the fact that there was large element of truth in it. I really _had_ wanted to see the portal – and I was glad I did. I just really, really wanted to see it again, and I sadly realised that that wouldn't be any time soon at this rate.

"I don't think he's any worse off for it, Mads," Dad said after a moment of silence.

"He seems to be doing this a lot," she observed, "lying in someplace, unconscious until someone finds him. Don't tell Jazz – we don't want her to worry even more."

They were both looking at me as she spoke, and I shrugged my shoulders up sheepishly, gripping the blanket tight in my hands.

"You could do with a better place to rest, actually, Danny," my mum continued, changing the subject slightly, "up in your bed, come on."

"But I thought you were worried about my leg?" I questioned innocently, "wouldn't one of you have to carry me?"

* * *

Wanting to explore is a natural thing. It's human nature to get out there and discover new things, broaden the horizons of knowledge. It doesn't have to be a journey, like going to the moon or diving down into the deepest oceans. Scientists explore frequently within the comfort of their own laboratories, much like my parents. All mathematicians need are a piece of paper and a pen to explore – sometimes a calculator if they're feeling daring. Artists require only their imagination or their motivation and anything to work with, whether it is charcoal, paints or even the foam on top of a coffee. Novelists and writers create exciting new worlds and ideas, and their readers explore these worlds eagerly if the work is good.

And then there was me, with my own little idea as I stood in the centre of my bedroom, cast slung off to the side somewhere, facing the full-length mirror.

I regarded myself. Black hair. Blue eyes. Beneath that, if you looked deeper, you could see how my skin was pale, how it just sort of hung over my skeleton without any vibrancy at all. My hair was a little messy, too, and my eyes were dim and poorly focused.

Now I knew why, though.

The answer both amazed and terrified me. I was trying my best not to think of the negative parts of this (after all, looking on the downside is human nature), and instead try and grab hold of the positives. Mum and Dad were downstairs, starting the dinner. Jazz had just returned and, after fussing over me for a while because she had found out what happened, locked herself in her room across the landing to do even further studying. My bedroom door was bolted shut, too, albeit for a very different reason: I wanted to explore.

Setting a determined look onto my face, I imagined back to earlier, when I had first turned into a ghost. What had happened? It was the overwhelming feeling that I had to fight, the adrenalin that flung my brain into a series of mental explosions as I resisted the urge to die when I was, in fact, already dead that caused me to change. Right now, with zero chance of danger around me, I knew I couldn't recreate that feeling.

I held my hand to my chest under my t-shirt where the cold was burrowed and ran my fingers over the skin. There was a slight prickle and a tingle of a little bit of power. If only I could release that, then I'd be a ghost again, and I could properly explore my new state of self.

My thought processes were wild for the next few minutes, thinking of ways to make the change happen. It wasn't like a muscle you could simply command to contract or relax at will, although there was obviously a heavy amount of willpower involved. I jiggled up and down a little and got distracted by my hair for a few seconds as is bounced up and down with me. My vision flashed back to when it was white, how it had changed colour so drastically – had my eyes changed, too?

That, I decided, was how I was going to try and make this work. I just had to think really hard about wanting to be a ghost again. Yeah, that was it. I imagined the inverted hazmat suit and the opposite feeling of cold burying warmth and the weightlessness I felt as I jumped and the power I felt when I had punched the other ghost. I imagined _everything_. As much as I could, all at once.

A ball of light flared at my torso and burst outwards, forming a ring around my body and then splitting into two of them. Slowly, they began to move – one up, one down. They illuminated the room and casted strange shadows onto my body as I felt my heart slow to a stop and my last breath of air leave my mouth. In their wake I saw the haz-mat suit and I knew with a smile my idea had worked. It lasted only a few moments, and the rings fizzled out above my head and below my feet like fading halos, leaving a phantom version on myself behind.

The first thing I caught sight of was my eyes, and I immediately stepped closer to get a better look. They were green now, a neon green like the colour of the Fenton Portal. The irises even swirled and shimmered and danced within themselves and I blinked slowly, again and again, each time just as excited to see them there.

This was just so _great._

I was there for another long period of time, running my hands through my hair multiple times and using the glow I emitted to provide the only light source in my room. My feet didn't creak on the floorboards as they did in my human form – my weight must have halved. Maybe even more than that. My intangibility and invisibility still worked; they were even mildly easier to control, even though they started working at times when I didn't want them to.

Eventually, I found myself drawing back my curtains and gently pushing open my bedroom window. The evening breeze found its way in and I watched the first stars appear whilst leaning my elbows on the sill. At that time I made myself try to make a sound again, and after clenching my throat and neck muscles in a lot of weird ways I gave off a gentle hum, much to my contentment. It was still very difficult to change notes quickly, let alone form words, when I had to find ways to move my vocal chords myself without any air. It was a weird feeling and gave my voice a strange echo-y quality, but I rather rapidly found myself not caring.

When the sky had grown even darker, I decided that it was time to finally give it a go and try to fly. To this day, I remember the whole ordeal as quite petrifying but yet so exhilarating and very difficult to describe. I balanced myself on the window ledge, half of my white boots peeking out over nothing. It took me a long time to finally let go and push myself outwards and into the air.

I fell first, but only a little bit as I focused on the weightlessness I had already gotten so used to feeling. I let it spread to the tips of my fingers and toes and, like when I had changes forms, imagined nothing but my goal. I slipped forward easily and then propelled myself upwards and out of sight from the people below with some unknown force and a huge grin.

Spreading my arms wide, I lay on my stomach in mid-air, watching the traffic go by as I drifted along with the gentle wind.

Flying is a natural thing – but not for human beings. Only birds and some mammals can fly; even some kinds of fish can glide out of the water for a short while. But people have to build machines if they want to get airborne, and the ability to do this without them is something that everyone has dreamed of at least once in their lifetime.

I didn't have to dream anymore.

* * *

_Done, done and… done! Did you like it?_


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